A Cinderella Story: Missing Moment Montage
by Jade-Max
Summary: A Cinderella Story - Missing Moment Vignettes – Austin & Sam, Sam & Carter - Various
1. Beginning of a Fairy Tale

March 2009

Disclaimer: _A Cinderella Story_ is owned by Disney; I'm simply playing in the sandbox

Title: Missing Moments Montage

Author: Jade_Max

Genre: Canon

Summary: _A Cinderella Story _Missing Moment Vignettes – Austin & Sam, Sam & Carter & others

---------

**Vig #1 - Beginning of a Fairy Tale**

_**September 4**_

Samantha Montgomery checked the clock on her computer as she closed down her Princeton application. It was just before nine; Fiona and the girls would be out for another couple of hours doing whatever it was they were doing to spend the money her father's diner brought in - and it was her night off. Chewing her lip, she opened her AOL account and signed in.

No new messages were in her mailbox, which wasn't really a big surprise, and she instead opened her bookmarked chat rooms. Princeton Chat, a place where she'd done a lot of her research for understanding what to expect when she went there next year – after she graduated early – popped open and a quick glance showed a list of names for who was around. There were a lot she recognized and several she didn't.

Newbies to the room were fairly obvious, and Sam did a quick read as chat lines popped up to try and get a handle on what was being discussed. A few 'welcome back' comments were sent her way, to which she typed in a quick 'thank you' before continuing to read.

Literature, of all things, was being discussed and Nomad609 – a name she'd only seen once before – was at the head of it. Intrigued, she watched as he argued the pros and cons of conflicted characters vs conflict from setting. Jumping in, she added her two cents

**PrincetonGirl818:** Conflict might be essential to all stories, Nomad, but don't you think circumstantial conflict can be just as important as personal?

**Nomad609: **Setting up circumstance where conflict is present without getting cliché is tricky, especially if you want to make it believable. Personal conflict, however, is not only easier, but more realistic.

No kidding. Tapping her fingers against her chin, Sam considered her response, intrigued by – his, her? – comment – and knowing she couldn't keep the discussion in the chat room for long. If she did, someone would just tell them to take it to personal message.

**PrincetonGirl818:** I guess is depends on what you see to be reality or what reality actually is.

A private window popped up on the side with Nomad's name and Sam raised her eyebrows, clicking on it.

**Nomad609:** Reality, huh? What do you mean by that?

**PrincetonGirl818:** I… guess that not everyone has the same reality. Like, if you live in a rich neighborhood you're not going to see or do the same things as you would if you were a part of the poor neighborhood.

**Nomad609:** You're talking about perspective.

**PrincetonGirl818:** One and the same, aren't they?

**Nomad609:** Reality and perspective? They have different definitions according to the dictionary.

Sam rolled her eyes.

**PrincetonGirl818:** I know that - but someone with nothing still sees the reality of having nothing. Reality -is- perspective... or so the saying goes.

**Nomad609:** I guess I hadn't thought of it that way. What are you - a lit major or something?

Sam laughed, shaking her head and flattered the other chatter could think so. Amused, she typed out her response with a grin on her lips.

**PrincetonGirl818:** LOL! I wish.

**Nomad609:** What do you mean – you wish?

**PrincetonGirl818:** I'm still in high school; I won't be at Princeton until next year.

**Nomad609:** Really? You make a mean argument for someone in my grade – most people I know just sleep through English class – or skip it all together.

She blinked, staring at his? - her? - response, more than a little surprised to find another High School student let alone one who sounded interested in something so academic. She shouldn't really have been surprised, but most of the people who frequented the chat room she did were actually at Princeton. Intrigued, she couldn't resist her next question.

**PrincetonGirl818:** If I skipped English I'd miss the excitement of knowing who was going to show up to class – and watching the teacher try to work partner lessons around uneven numbers of participants.

**Nomad609:** Sounds like English classes are the same anywhere; so if you're not a lit major, what are you intending to study when you get to Princeton?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Would you believe me if I said I don't know yet?

**Nomad609:** Don't know yet? Then why Princeton – close to home?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Ha! Yeah right. With my Stepmother, I'd never pick a school anywhere near where I live. Princeton has a bonus of being where my dad wanted me to go_ and_ over 3000 miles away.

**Nomad609:** 3000 miles? You're West Coast then, right? Me too.

Whoops. Sam bit her lip, chewing on it absently and a little shocked at how quickly that had been established. Still... West Coast had a lot of territory to cover. Changing the subject, she steered it away from her location.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Something like that. How about you – lit major when you get to Princeton?

**Nomad609:** Maybe, if I ever get there - I want to be a writer some day...

**PrincetonGirl818:** Want to? Not going to?

**Nomad609:** It's a long story... Look, I'll be back in a bit – talk to you then?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Sure.

**Nomad609:** Thanks.

Thanks? Samantha watched as Nomad logged off, leaving the chat room, the last comment making her frown. He – she – he… shaking her head, Sam propped her chin in her hand as she stared at the screen without seeing it. Her chat partner sounded… lonely? She could certainly relate if that was the case.

Shaking her head, she opened her word processing program and started in on her first assignment for school. The English assignment that, ironically, was poetry – and not something she was good at. Staring at her blinking cursor, she considered her options. Not only did she have her own assignment to do, but Brianna's as well. Tapping her fingers on the keys without striking any letters, she cocked her head to the side, wondering what her step sister had done over the summer that she could write about.

Brianna's turned out to be easy; never very bright, Sam settled for writing a short, three paragraph poem about shopping. It was something her step sister enjoyed and something she would have written about... if she'd thought to do it at all.

Surprisingly, less than an half an hour later, her chat window flashed again.

**Nomad609:** You still around, Princeton Girl?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Somewhere – slaving away over the prerequisite "what'd you do over the summer" assignment - you?

**Nomad609:** Finished mine hours ago – my English teacher gave us an easy assignment for back to school – at least for me.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Lucky. I'm usually pretty good at English, I just… I didn't do anything exciting this summer.

**Nomad609: **Now why do I find that hard to believe? I'm sure you did something – like get a job?

**PrincetonGirl818:** _Get_ a job? I've had a job for years – and I wrote about that _last_ summer. How about you, what did you write about?

**Nomad609:** The summer vacation my dad and I took; he was keen on doing a father/son thing.

Father/son thing, huh? Sam grinned. So her chat partner _was_ a guy.

**PrinctonGirl818: **Lucky – I can't remember the last trip I took. My step mom's not big on the family bonding thing.

**Nomad609:** What's your dad say about it?

Sam tapped the keys again without typing anything; it was an innocent enough question, but it still stung. Her dad might have been gone for the last eight years, but she still keenly felt his loss. Every day in the house where they'd lived – and Fiona was constantly changing – was a little like being daily slapped in the face. And while Fiona had never physically punished her, she'd come up with other inventive ways to do it – not that she ever had cause to since Sam made sure she never gave her one.

**Nomad609:** A little too personal?

**PrincetonGirl818:** No, no… my dad's dead, so it's just me and the Step – and thankfully she's _not_ here right now.

**Nomad609:** I'm sorry.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Hey, no big; you didn't know. But you did give me an idea for what to write about - thanks.

**Nomad609:** You're welcome – I think.

A giggle escaped; even though type had no emotion behind it, she couldn't help but allocate a 'voice' to it and in her head he sounded confused.

**PrincetonGirl818:** lol - you think?

**Nomad609:** I haven't a clue what I said to inspire you; I brought up bad memories, stumbled into the fact you've got an evil step mom and that you've had a job for years… how is that, in any way helpful?

**PrincetonGirl818:** The assignment is about what we did this summer – which is my case was practically nothing out of the ordinary… so that's what I'll write about. The only difference was that I didn't have my school work load on top of everything else.

**Nomad609:** So… business as normal?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Exactly – not exactly your typical subject for a back to school assignment but then… I guess I've never really been typical.

**Nomad609:** Not into the normal 'teenage' things, huh?

Into? She wished. With the Diner and the house and everything else when did she have time for normal 'teenage' things?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Define 'typical'

**Nomad609:** My life

**PrincetonGirl818: **Huh?

**Nomad609: **Never mind – it's nothing.

**PrincetonGirl818: **Nothing?Doesn't sound like nothing – how is your life typical? Or does this have to do with your earlier comment about wanting to be a writer?

**Nomad609: **It's not your problem, don't worry about it. I shouldn't have said anything.

**PrinctonGirl818: **Why not?It's not like I know you or you know me – and it seems to me you wouldn't have said anything if you had someone else to talk to.

**Nomad609: **You got all of that from one offhanded comment?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Let's just say that I totally understand about not having anyone to confide in. My dad was my best friend and when I lost him, I lost everything – I didn't really have anyone else I could talk with since my step mother's a raging… you get the idea.

**Nomad609:** You're pretty smart; I take it that's why you argue for circumstantial conflicts – because that's what you know?

She hadn't thought of it that way, but he had a point. It was easier for her to believe in circumstance causing problems for the hero or heroine of a book than it was for personal conflict. But then, she'd never been terribly conflicted; she'd always known who she was and what her goals were.

**PrincetonGirl818**: I guess. I can understand conflict in all guises but circumstantial is definitely something that hits close to home.

Nomad was suspiciously silent for long minutes – so Sam continued, prodding gently.

**PrincetonGirl818:** How about you? Is this a case of 'write what you know' – personal conflict?

**Nomad609: **Heh – am I that obvious?

**PrincetonGirl818:** No, but you've dropped some hints.

"_Sam?"_

Her fingers froze over the keys and she closed her eyes as the call came through the monitor beside her computer. Fiona and the twins were home.

"_Sam? Can you come down here?"_

Pressing the call button, she sighed. "I'll be right there."

"_Now!"_

**PrincetonGirl818:** I've gotta go

**Nomad609:** I'll talk with you later then?

**PrincetonGirl818:** If you want to.

**Nomad609:** Do you?

"_SAM!"_

**PrincetonGirl818: **I'd love to; catch you later.

Logging off with a sigh, Sam headed downstairs to see what Fiona could _possibly_ need at just shy of eleven thirty at night. The thought of the time stopped her as she was leaving her room, looking back to focus on the clock in disbelief. _Eleven Thirty_? She'd been chatting with Nomad for the better part of two hours… and the thought made her lips curve. Two hours chatting which had seemed like mere minutes and had only served to whet her appetite to know Nomad better; she couldn't wait to see how their next conversation went.

_Fin_

Author's Note: I've yet to see anything with "how" they met other than the reference in the movie – so I thought I'd extrapolate.


	2. Living in a Pretend World

**Living in a Pretend World**

_**September 7**_

**PrincetonGirl818:** Are you still here? You were here when I left for school this morning.

Austin chuckled at her almost peevish greeting when the chat window for _**PrincetonGirl818 **_popped up over top of his English report. Ridiculously happy she was online once more, he minimized his word processor - his assignment could wait - and answered her back.

**Nomad609:** Hello to you too. Where have you been?

**PrincetonGirl818: **Ugh!

**Nomad609:** Rough day?

**PrincetonGirl818:** You're telling me. Biology dissections, crazy customers at work and a Stepmother on the war path - ever feel like nothing you do is good enough?

**Nomad609:** All the time; like you're living up to someone else's standards instead of your own.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Exactly. It's nice to know it's not just me.

**Nomad609:** Anything I can help with?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Not really, just talking to you helps though.

**Nomad609:** I'm glad. I wish I could do more.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Like what, petition the school board to make dissecting frogs illegal?

**Nomad609:** Not big on biology, huh?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Try not big on the killing of amphibians so we can learn how their internal organs work. Professor Rothman is a little too gleeful about the whole process.

Austin's hands still on the keyboard in surprise, completely taken off guard by the casual comment. What were the chances of meeting someone wanting to go to Princeton and have them not only in his _grade_ but at his _school_? One in a million; a trillion? He had to know for sure.

**Nomad609:** Professor Rothman - from North Valley High School?

**PrincetonGirl818:** How'd you know?

**Nomad609:** Because he's my Biology teacher too.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Wow - small world

The thrill that skated down his spine was accompanied by a surge of anticipation. She went to his school; could he meet her some day? Did he already know her? Had he met her without realizing who she was? Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself; one thing at a time. So far they'd spent three days - nights actually - at the keyboard until eleven thirty or midnight getting to know one another. Two or three hours where she listened to him and he listened to her; two or three hours where he'd been completely absorbed to the point of neglecting his homework.

She was worth it.

**Nomad609: **You said it. Does he lecture your class on the importance of losing your lunch before coming to his class too?

**PrincetonGirl818: **He's not exactly the most diplomatic of teachers, is he?

He couldn't resist teasing her, hoping to make her laugh and maybe, just maybe, brighten up her day a little.

**Nomad609:** Would you be if you spent your days with pickled frogs?

**PrincetonGirl818: **LOL!

**Nomad609: **Ha! Made you laugh.

**PrincetonGirl818: ** So you did, was that your goal?

**Nomad609: **One of them, I hate to hear you so down.

**PrincetonGirl818:** What's the other?

**Nomad609:** To get to know you better. I haven't spent this much time talking to anyone in... ever.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Me either, but are you sure you want to get to know me?

**Nomad609:** Why not?

**PrincetonGirl818:** I'm not a very exciting person.

**Nomad609:** You don't need to be exciting or adventurous to hold my attention, just be yourself. It's a refreshing change.

**PrincetonGirl818:** From what?

**Nomad609:** This farce that surrounds me on a daily basis.

**PrincetonGirl818:** What do you mean?

**Nomad609:** My life. Nothing is what it seems. It's like the outer limits where everything should be a certain way, but isn't.

**PrincetonGirl818:** I don't follow.

How to make her understand it was like being suffocated simply because he wanted something that no one in his circle could hope to understand? Yet, he was certain it wasn't just him, but everyone. The only person who seemed to be exactly what she was, was - ironically - his girlfriend. And, the more time he spent with her, the less time he wanted to.

Yet he couldn't say anything. His dad _expected_ him to be dating Shelby - the head cheerleader - so he did. His dad _expected_ him to be the star quarterback and lead the team to victories - so he did. It was the expectation that he be cool, a leader - so he did it. Yet it was those expectations that prevented him from doing what _he_ really wanted to.

Always pretending, always playing the expected role - except here. Here, without mirrors or videos to reveal his identity, he could be the guy he wanted to be - the guy that no one saw because of the trappings he adopted to avoid becoming a disappointment to his father. Rubbing his chin, he took a deep breath before placing his fingers on the keyboard - and somehow the words came.

**Nomad609: **I live in a world full of people pretending to be something they're not. But when I talk to _you_, I'm the guy I wanna be.

No immediately answer was forthcoming, but then he hadn't really expected one. What could someone say to that - and then she surprised him.

**PrincetonGirl818:** To a degree no one is what they appear to be on the outside so they can avoid having the pressures of expectation and disappointment weighing them down.

**Nomad609:** That's exactly it - except in this case it's a matter shouldering the burden of expectation to avoid disappointment and _those_ weigh me down.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Why can't you step outside that reality and be the you that _you_ want to be? Who could possibly influence you that greatly?

**Nomad609: **My dad for starters. He'd probably never believe me if I came out and said I want to be a writer.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Didn't you ever show an interest?

**Nomad609:** Sure, but it didn't mesh with what he thought I should do or what he still thinks I should and will do. I was discouraged from getting too bookish - his word.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Didn't he ever read you bedtime stories?

**Nomad609: **I don't think he knows any.

**PrincetonGirl818:** I'll take that as a no. So if you're not supposed to be too interested in the written word, where do you do all your reading?

**Nomad609:** School, mostly. I took a speed reading course a couple of years ago as a way to spend less time in the library. He wasn't too pleased when I 'failed' and wasted his money.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Sneaky

**Nomad609:** It's the only way I could justify the time I spend in the library. Now I read twice as much in the time I have and can do what I need to and what I want to.

**PrincetonGirl818:** I completely understand having to be creative with your time.

**Nomad609:** This is going to sound strange, but with your problems with your Stepmom, it's nice to find someone who can relate.

Not that he was wishing problems with her Stepmom on her; but then, the last three days had yielded some interesting facts about her Stepmother's tyrannical habits and it resounded within him with familiarity. His father wasn't quite so demanding in the ways her Stepmother seemed to be, but he was just as bad in his own.

**PrincetonGirl818: **I'm glad I can help, even if it's just to lend an ear - or an eye in this case.

**Nomad609:** You do help, more than you know. Talking to you is all that keeps me going through the day lately. Now that I know you're so close, I'm going to keep wondering if I'm passing you in the hallways at school.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Does it really matter that much?

"_Austin?"_

Glancing back over his shoulder, Austin quickly pulled up his English homework as the sound of his father's footsteps sounded on the stairs.

"Yeah?"

His door opened without a knock and he looked back once again to find his dad in the doorway. "It's almost midnight, are you still working on that English assignment?"

"Yeah, it's some Shakespeare thing." That was all he needed to say; his dad had never been one for the classic works and hadn't a clue that Austin thrived on them.

"Well, don't worry about it too much; your football scholarship to USC doesn't require top marks in English."

_Or anything else_, he thought peevishly. Austin caught the flashing icon at the bottom of his screen, indicating Princeton Girl had messaged him again. He had to get rid of his dad. "I won't be at it much longer, dad - if I'm not done by twelve thirty, I'll pack it in."

"Good. Sleep well."

He turned back to the computer, adding another few lines to his essay as his father watched. His dad, thankfully, lost interest quickly and within minutes Austin was alone once more. He flipped his chat window back open.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Obviously it does.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Nomad? Did I say something to offend you?

**Nomad609: **Sorry about that, my dad walked in. He's not too keen on the fact I'm up at midnight working on an English essay.

**PrincetonGirl818:** I guess that's our cue. Talk to you tomorrow?

Reluctant as he was to let her go, Austin knew he'd better if he wanted to get his essay finished in time for class tomorrow.

**Nomad609:** Same time, same place?

**PrincetonGirl818:** I'm on the late shift; it's Friday night. I won't be home until after midnight.

**Nomad609:** Oh. How about before work, then?

**PrincetonGirl818:** If you're around.

**Nomad609:** I'll make a point of it - what time?

**PrincetonGirl818:** I'll be around before school - around seven?

**Nomad609:** Then I'll talk to you then, sweet dreams.

She logged off and Austin closed down the chat window, sitting back in his chair and stared at the screen. With her departure, he was suddenly tired. Talking to her was a life line he'd never expected to find. How he'd survived this long without being able to express himself honestly to someone was a mystery to him.

In some ways, she was a perfect match to him. He didn't know who she was, but he was starting to wonder. _Could_ they meet someday? In some ways she was too good to be true, in others she was just as human as he. Their failings weren't something they'd talked about so far, but he suspected it was a topic they'd touch on frequently in the coming weeks. And for some reason, it didn't bother him to know that she already knew him better than his closest friends.

Finishing off his essay took next to no time at all - it was a subject he was intimately familiar with - and he shut down his computer before dressing down for bed. He set his alarm for five; less sleep, maybe, but he didn't want to risk missing Princeton Girl when she got back online.

Hitting the lights, he climbed in and tried to get settled - except he couldn't take his mind off his chat partner. The revelation that she went to his school was running around in his head, possibilities suddenly blossoming in his poet's soul.

There was a girl, somewhere on campus, who was sensitive, caring and listened to him; could he find her? Would she _want_ to meet him without knowing his identity in advance? Sliding his hands under his head, her laced his fingers together and stared at the darkness that was his ceiling and considered the question himself - did he really _want_ to meet her? To chance having her be something except what she was across the net? To be disappointed she wasn't everything she seemed to be? Or maybe to be pleasantly surprised she was everything she seemed to be.

He'd have to think about it; maybe, when they'd talked more, he'd think about exploring that option and could only hope she'd want to meet him too.

---

The following morning, Austin was online by six and found her already waiting.

**Nomad609:** Good morning. Did you sleep at all last night?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Good morning to you too. I slept, but I have to finish my homework. I've got about fifteen minutes or so left on it.

A surge of disappointment that she couldn't chat right away struck him - and then he cocked his head at the computer screen in curiosity.

**Nomad609:** Then why are you online already?

**PrincetonGirl818:** And miss our early morning rendezvous? Not a chance.

A promising sign that he was becoming as important to her as she was to him. The thought of not being able to talk with her for the better part of the day, let alone the weekend, was disheartening.

**Nomad609: **Hey, random question

**PrincetonGirl818:** Oh?

**Nomad609:** Do you have a cell phone?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Yeah, why?

**Nomad609:** Since your hours are funny over the weekend - and we're in the same city, we could text if you've got it as a part of your package? If you're game, that is.

**PrincetonGirl818:** I can't believe I - _we _didn't think of that sooner.

Austin laughed - delighted - but quickly cut himself off and glancing behind him at the door to ensure his dad hadn't heard him. He wasn't typically up before seven on a school day - or a morning person - and his dad would have had a heart attack if he ever discovered Austin was willing to be up early to chat with a girl he'd never met.

She supplied him with her information and Austin reached for his phone where it lay on the bed side table. Carefully entering it into the key pad, he sent her a text to test the connection.

_Just thought I'd test this to be sure._

_It works_. Came her almost immediate reply.

A smile crossed his face and he saved the information into his address book under her screen name.

**PrincetonGirl818:** I hate to do this, but I really need to focus on my homework before the Stepmother starts up. Text me when you get to school?

**Nomad609:** Sure thing. Talk to you later.

**PrinctonGirl818:** Are you leaving already?

**Nomad609:** You just said you had to finish your homework, I figured I'd let you.

**PrincetonGirl818:** I know I did - it's just nice knowing you're there to listen

**Nomad609:** You can text me any time. Now that I know you might, I probably won't even go shower without my phone.

**PrincetonGirl818:** LOL! Just don't shock yourself - then who would I talk to?

He wasn't given the chance to respond as she logged off, leaving him with a grin on his face. She was delightful. Shaking his head, he left himself logged in just in case she came back and figured that - since he was up, he might as well get ready for school. The sooner he got there, the sooner he could talk to her again.


	3. Connected

**Connected**

_**September 18**_

"Since when are _you_ excited to go to work?"

Sam rolled her eyes as she pulled out of the parking space, shoulder checking to ensure there was no one in her way. "Not work. If I get there early I can take a few minutes and talk with Nomad."

"Texting is not talking, Sam," Carter told her deliberately and a plaintive note entered his voice. "Sometimes I think you'd rather talk to him than me."

"And why not?" Sam braked for another car as it pulled out of its stall, waiting for them to clear the lane before continuing to head for the parking lot exit. "_He's_ at least attentive when I've got a problem."

"Hey!"

"Serves you right," she shot back with a grin. "Quit trying to use your actor tricks on me; they won't work."

Carter resettled himself in his seat. "The downfall of being a method actor," he retorted with a sigh. "No one takes you seriously."

Rolling her eyes, she pulled up to the stop sign for leaving the lot before checking both ways and heading out into traffic. "I do take you seriously. I just know that there are times when you're you and there are times when... you're not you. If that makes sense."

"So my training is working then."

"Or something," Sam conceded, tapping her fingers impatiently against her leg as the car ahead of her braked to a halt - and proceeded to miss three perfectly good opportunities to turn. "Come on, come on, turn already."

"But you're not obsessed."

"No, I'm not," Sam denied, pulling up to the corner when the car _finally_ turned. Her phone on the seat rang, but - knowing it was dangerous to use it while driving, she didn't dare check it. "Carter, could you-?"

"Me? No way; if that's Fiona she'll blow my ear drums. Contrary to popular belief, and actor needs to hear his cues."

"It's not Fiona," he was informed as Sam turned out into the next street and headed for the Diner and her job. Much as she hated it sometimes, it was more like home than her home was. "The ring is different."

"Are you sure you want me reading this? It could be something sensitive."

"It's a text, Carter; just read it already."

"You can wait."

The phone jangled again, indicating a second text message.

"Carter... please? I'll drive you to school all week!"

"You're already going to do that."

"But I don't have to - and you _know_ your dad's not going to give you the keys to his Mercedes after what you did to the last car they bought you."

Carter grinned. "Rub it in; I'm the only passenger you've got that's willing to put up with Fiona and occasionally answer your phone."

He had her there – and Fiona hated it when Sam missed her calls. Sam glanced down at the phone for half a second as she braked for a red light. A quick glance at Carter's teasing expression and she grabbed the phone off the seat, flipping it open before glancing up to ensure the light wasn't green yet. Carter reached over and plucked the phone out of her hands.

"Hey!"

"You can wait the five minutes it'll take to get to the Diner; the light's green."

Taking off, Sam glanced back to be able to change lanes and hit the curb lane, getting ready for the next turn. "What if that's from Fiona? You know I can't leave it for long, she'll throw a fit."

"Fiona doesn't text you after school.

"Come _on_ Carter, please?"

Rolling his eyes, he relented and flipped it open. "He's asking what time you're off tonight."

"Tell him nine, would you?"

"What's your password?"

Whoops; she'd forgotten her phone was locked. "Never mind." She'd do it when they stopped – and check the message she'd missed. "So what's the next character you're training to be?"

"I'll find out tomorrow, we're doing a study on classic figures in literature right now so it's pretty dry."

"I thought you thrived on that kind of thing?"

"Period acting is challenging, but Shakespeare leaves something to be desired."

Laughing, Sam took the last corner that would put her onto the street with the Diner. "Not big on the 'threes' 'thous' and 'wherefores'?"

"The language is the easy part; it's the costumes that are tricky. The basics are easy to come by but good luck finding a powdered wig of good quality anywhere in this city."

"Did you try the costume shop?"

"I said _good_ quality, not Halloween quality."

"I guess I wouldn't know the difference."

"Considering you don't take drama, why would you?"

He had a point – and she hadn't really focused on anything for the last two years except being able to have the courses she needed to graduate early. "So what are you going to do if you can't find one?"

"We have some props at school," Carter admitted reluctantly. "Though I keep hoping something will happen and we'll be able to skip it. Those things are itchy."

"That's not a very constructive outlook for an actor."

"I keep reminding myself it's just until I'm finished my training and can choose my own parts," Carter told her with a grin. "And I won't forget the little people when I'm a huge star either."

"That's what they all say." Sam pulled into the Diner's parking lot and parked the car in a stall near the rear door.

Carter undid his seat belt as she shut the car off, offering her the cell phone as he reached for his bag. "Thanks for the ride, Sam; see you tomorrow?"

"Like always; have fun at class."

Carter's grin as he exited the car was priceless. "You'd think school after school would be boring, but acting classes are better than anything North Valley can offer."

Sam lifted one hand in good bye as she flipped her phone open with the other. "See you later."

Carter was practically forgotten as Sam logged into her phone and checked her messages:

_What time are u done 2nite?_ – just like Carter had told her – was still on the screen. The other was a quick note to ask how she was doing.

Collecting her things, Sam slid out of the car and headed for the staff entrance, her gaze on the phone as she typed back her reply.

_Just got 2 work. Off at 9. U?_

Glancing up as she waited for a reply, Sam climbed the steps, holding out one hand to push open the door as the reply came back.

_Off at 6. U online l8tr?_

"Sam?"

Sam glanced up and stopped just short of running into Rhonda. "Rhonda!"

"Is Fiona up to her tricks again?"

"Fiona?"

Rhonda tapped the back of the phone with one finger nail. "Normally when you have that thing in hand it's because she wants something else from you."

Flipping her phone closed, Sam shrugged. "It's no big deal!"

Rhonda's eyebrows almost hit her hairline. "No big deal? You can't be talking to Fiona then."

"I've gotta change-"

"Ah ah," Rhonda didn't move, a grin on her lips. "Whomever it is, you're smiling, Sam."

"So? I smile all the time."

"Not like this – which rules out you talking to Carter."

"Carter doesn't even _have_ a cell phone."

"Exactly. So, who was it?"

Exasperated and knowing Rhonda wasn't going to let it go, Sam answered her reluctantly. "A guy I met in one of my chat rooms."

"Rhonda?" Eleanor peeked her head in the back, looking as harried as usual. "Oh, hi, Sammy. Rhonda, the birthday party in that back booth is getting out of hand."

Rhonda shot Sam a look that said she wasn't finished talking to her yet, and disappeared to the front of the Diner. Exhaling softly, Sam opened her phone to find another text message waiting for her.

_Is that a no?_

_Sorry_, she wrote back, biting her lip to keep a smile from spreading. _Work stuff. Home by 915. Talk then?_

His answer was almost immediate. _Definitely._

"Sam?"

With a sigh, Sam shut her cell phone and tucked it into her pocket. "Yeah Bobby?"

"Can you give me a hand back here?"

"One second, I've just gotta pull my hair back."

Her shift at the Diner passed with surprising speed considering how badly she wanted to get home, but Rhonda couldn't resist teasing her about 'her boy' when Sam took her fifteen minute break and, instead of talking to Rhonda, spent it texting to Nomad.


	4. Dare to Dream

**Dare to Dream**

_**September 25**_

Austin settled at one of the computers in the library at the beginning of his lunch hour feeling frustrated and explosive. His girlfriend was being the clingy, self-absorbed bitch that was her trademark, gushing to her friends about how the two of them were going to attend USC together and be the talk of the campus. David and Ryan had been pulling pranks on the newest members of their football squad - an initiation ritual Austin found he had no stomach for after the previous night.

His father had been at it again; raving about the USC football team and how Austin would fit in. He was _expecting_ that his son would be the best quarter back the team had seen in years; he was _expecting_ his son would lead the team to victory after victory and, by the time he graduated, walk away with a business degree. Austin hadn't been able to do little more than smile slightly and pretend to agree with his father when in reality he was clamoring inside to come out and tell his dad the truth.

There was something very intimidating about Andy Ames and his drive to ensure his son followed his ultimate plan - a plan Austin felt more and more constricting as he realized his goals and dreams differed exponentially from his father's.

Crying excessive homework - when in reality he was hoping to find Princeton Girl online - he retreated from his friends to the library and logged into the AOL client. They hadn't talked much while at school, but the week before she'd discovered that they could if they wanted to. And today, Austin intended to abuse the privilege. Barley ten seconds after his log on, the message window he'd been hoping to see in an effort to save his sanity popped into view.

**PrincetonGirl818: **Hey! I wasn't expecting to see you online - I thought you were busy over lunch hour.

**Nomad609:** Then why were you logged in?

**PrincetonGirl818:** I said expecting to see you - that doesn't mean I didn't _hope_. Rough day?

**Nomad609:** What tipped you off?

**PrincetonGirl818:** You _usually_ say hello before you comment on the fact I'm online. What's up?

**Nomad609:** I feel like I'm being torn in two separate directions. What people want for me and what I want for myself - except what _I_ want doesn't seem to be as important as what _they_ want.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Important to who, you?

**Nomad609:** Them.

**PrincetonGirl818:** What does it matter what they want? You're the one who has to live with it, so your opinion should be the only one that matters.

**Nomad609:** That's a fairly simplistic way to look at it

**PrincetonGirl818:** Tell me I'm wrong.

He couldn't and she knew it - and he knew that she knew it. Two minutes in and he was already feeling better; Princeton Girl listened to him, but she also knew how to get him to think and look at things from another angle. She thought like he did, except she had the rare ability to see things from the other side without all of the information. That, or she was closer to his situation than he thought.

**PrincetonGirl818:** I know we all do things we have to when it comes to pleasing those people closest to us, Nomad, but in the end we're the ones who have to live with those choices. Could you honestly be happy doing something that was someone else's dream and not your own?

**Nomad609: **I thought I was; talking to you has shown me otherwise.

**PrincetonGirl818: **Other people's opinions are overrated.

**Nomad609: **That's the step child talking. Is she really that bad?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Worse - you have _no_ idea. It's only one of the reasons I sent my application off to Princeton this morning - you?

**Nomad609:** I haven't done mine yet, but I think I'll finish it before the end of the day. It's reassuring to think that we'll continue to go to the same school; it's nice to know I'll have someone to talk to.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Only if you getoff yourkiester and get that application finished. I wouldn't want you to miss the application deadline.

**Nomad609:** Of course, there's a chance I won't get in.

**PrincetonGirl818:** So? There's a chance _I_ won't get in either; there's a chance neither of us will, but there's also the chance we both might make it.

**Nomad609:** I don't normally play the odds.

**PrincetonGirl818: **Me either, but my dad always dreamed I'd go to Princeton and I _intend_ to do what I can to see that dream fulfilled; it'd be nice to have a friend there.

It sure would.

The more time they spent texting and chatting, the more the desire to meet her had begun to grow. Not just meet her, but Austin felt as if he already knew her; she'd become his obsession in quick order and his haven. Princeton Girl knew _him_ - and not the him his father wanted him to be, but the him _he_ wanted to be. She knew about his secret desires and he'd grown bold enough to send her some of his work.

Terrifying as it had been, he'd never shown it to anyone - hadn't dared - she'd given her honest opinion. Not only had she helped him refine it, but she had a view point on his work he never could and it was something he appreciated.

Three and a half weeks of chatting and getting to know her had begun to translate into something more. She occupied his thoughts almost constantly, no matter what he was doing. His friends didn't know about her - and wouldn't if he had his way - but they had noticed he wasn't as focused. Fortunately, David and Ryan tended to pass off his distraction as 'Shelby issues' and didn't question him.

Fortunately, Shelby hadn't noticed anything amiss and if he cried off actually taking her out anywhere, he gave her the excuse she couldn't fight; school work. If Shelby thought it odd he hadn't kissed her since the beginning of the school year, she hadn't said anything. If she'd asked, he wouldn't have been able to answer her honestly; that he'd feel bad - as if he were cheating on _Princeton Girl,_ not her.

But then, Shelby never noticed anything that didn't have to do with her hair, face, weight, make up - nothing beyond the superficial. It was both a blessing and a curse; she wasn't bright enough to realize something was wrong, but on the other hand, she'd take it all that harder when he ended it. Why had he ever begun dating her in the first place?

**Nomad609:** You do realize we'd have to meet before the beginning of the semester if we get in, right? There's no way I'm heading off to Princeton without knowing who you are beforehand.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Ha! That is the most positive thing you've said so far.

Interesting how she kept avoiding the topic of them meeting. Didn't she want to meet him the way he wanted to meet her?

**Nomad609:** You have that affect on me; just thinking about you puts me in a better mood.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Same here. Do you really feel any better?

**Nomad609:** Surprisingly, yes. I just needed you to tell me to get my head in gear.

**PrincetonGirl818:** No you didn't; you just needed someone to reaffirm what you already knew - that it's okay to dream no matter what other people want for you.

The warning bell rang at that moment, snapping Austin's attention away from the computer screen for a fraction of a second, but her words had hit the nail on the head. Still, even if they hadn't spoken of anything important, she would have helped. It was in knowing she was there for him that made all the difference.

**Nomad609:** That's our cue; usual time tonight?

**PrincetonGirl818: **Count on it.

He did - and it made him smile. Logging off and clearing the chat history on the computer, Austin pushed away from the desk. Talking to her had helped in ways she couldn't possibly have known. It balanced him, helped him feel as if he had someone in his corner - and it wasn't something to be taken lightly.

The desire to meet her was strong and grew stronger every conversation they had, just like his desire to know more about her hadn't yet been curbed. Who was she? Where did she work? Who was her stepmother and why did she put up with her?

Walking out of the library, he was absorbed in his own thoughts and stumbled slightly when a blonde girl - almost completely in blue with a jean bag over one shoulder - was shoved into his side. He caught himself on a nearby locker, steadying her with one hand as he did.

"Woah, easy."

The girl - she was vaguely familiar - regained her balance with surprising speed.

"Sorry," she apologized, glancing at him quickly before darting away. The impression of large hazel eyes was all he was left with as she disappeared, not giving him a chance to say anything more. Shaking his head - most girls would have been _delighted_ to find themselves in the arms of the football team's captain - he dismissed the encounter and headed for his locker to grab the books he'd need for his afternoon classes.

His thought process had already turned back to Princeton Girl and the discussion they'd have that night. Lunch hour had only whetted his appetite for more of her company - for her undivided attention. He was going to suggest meeting online during lunch hour as a regular thing when he spoke with her that night, he decided.

Texting her before class was fine, but being able to sit and discuss was his own personal slice of heaven in the middle of the school day.


	5. Obsession

**Obsession**

_**October 10**_

Sam got home from work late thanks an emergency in the kitchen and having to make a run for supplies. It was nearly ten and she'd had two messages from Nomad on her phone. The initial one at nine thirty when she'd not shown up at her normal time to chat asking if she was working late; the second just after she'd stripped her skates off, wanting to know if he should stick around.

Unwilling to give up any time with him, Sam sent him back a note saying she'd be home by ten and they could talk then.

Now it was almost ten as she parked her car in front of her house. Looking at it, she was stung by the sudden desire to avoid it completely. She had no desire to go in and find out what chores Fiona had left for her to do before leaving for school in the morning. But, on the other hand, if she didn't go inside... she couldn't talk to Nomad. Grabbing her bag off the seat - she still had her homework to do too - she headed inside.

The house was dark when she entered, showing that Fiona and the girls were already in bed, and no one had thought to leave a light on for her. It wasn't surprising; none of her step-family thought about her at all unless they wanted something from her.

Pulling her keys from her pocket, Sam turned on the small LED flashlight she kept there for that purpose and swept it quickly across her path. Nothing had changed. Turning the light off, she crept forward on silent feet and climbed the stairs towards her room in the attic. Nothing creaked - she knew which steps to avoid - and within minutes she was safely inside her room.

Foregoing the necessity of the overhead light, she dropped her bag on her bed and made her way unerringly to her computer. The clock on her bedside table showed two minutes after ten as she hit the power button. Settling into the chair, Sam reached behind her to collect her bag as the computer booted up and pulled her Physics and English notes from within.

They were stacked on her desk before she reached up to turn on the lamp that overhung that corner and logging into her computer. Her chat client popped up immediately and Sam quickly typed in her password - and seconds later the chat window from Nomad popped up.

**Nomad609:** You're late.

Sam laughed softly, grinning at the screen and had no trouble imagining that he sounded disgruntled.

**PrincetonGirl818:** I told you I'd be home by ten

**Nomad609:** It's five after; that's five minutes I don't get to talk to you tonight.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Or five minutes of sleep you don't get?

**Nomad609:** Exactly, and I need my beauty sleep.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Well... I could always log off and let you get it.

**Nomad609:** Don't you dare! With the assembly today, I never got to talk to you at lunch and it's been bugging me.

**PrincetonGirl818:** We've never met, Nomad, what's there to bug you?

**Nomad609:** You tell me - after I got your e-mail before school this morning, I haven't been able to think about anything else.

Sam blushed - but she wasn't about to tell _him _that. She'd sent him a note after he'd logged off the night before to let him know she wouldn't be able to chat in the morning - yet that hadn't been all she'd said. More and more he was occupying her thoughts, just a quick note from him able to make her smile and brighten her days. Nomad's constant support and his ability to listen and empathize with her about her situation had become something she'd begun to crave - so she'd told him.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Knowing you're in my corner means a lot to me; I just thought you should know.

**Nomad609:** I feel the same way. No one knows me like you do - no one would _believe_ this is me if I told them.

**PrincetonGirl818:** So you've said; I still don't understand why it would be so bad to show people who you are.

**Nomad609:** Probably because it's contrary to everything they think they know about me; it's like... being given a script and playing the designated role because that's the part they expect you to fill even if it's not you.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Aren't you doing that here too?

**Nomad609:** Why, because it's the internet?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Yeah

**Nomad609:** Never. You don't expect me to be anything but who I am, that kind of freedom is priceless.

**PrincetonGirl818:** The beauty of anonymous chats, huh? Without preconceived notion, you don't have to live up to an image.

**Nomad609:** True enough. Still... it doesn't stop me from wondering who you are.

And again, he mentioned it. Sam bit her lip; he'd been doing so more and more frequently - could she bite the bullet and meet him? Nomad was sweet and sensitive and the kind of guy who seemed capable of looking beyond appearances; was it possible? She was scared of his rejection in the event they did meet. Few people, except Carter - and their occasional acquaintance Terry - paid her any kind of respect.

Still; Nomad did know her; their discussions ensured it.

**PrincetonGirl818:** You know who I am

**Nomad609:** You know what I mean.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Aren't you worried that if you meet me I'll have buck teeth and bad hygiene?

**Nomad609:** Anyone who's as wonderful as you are on the inside wouldn't be able to hide it on the outside.

**PrincetonGirl818:** That's the poet talking.

**Nomad609:** I don't care what you look like. You have the ability to see me for me; for that alone I want to meet you.

**PrincetonGirl818: **People are superficial by nature - for all I know _you_ have buck teeth and bad hygiene.

**Nomad609:** LOL!

**PrincetonGirl818:** Can I take that as a no?

**Nomad609:** Let's just say I've never had complaints.

Which meant what? Sam chewed on her lower lip, contemplating his answer. Conceit wasn't something she'd gotten from him, but she was under the impression he held no illusions about himself. Still... no complaints didn't necessarily mean no compliments - but it could. Or was he saying he was better than average looking? Not one to judge, or even jump to conclusions, she decided to settle for the middle road.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Me either, which means we're both pretty average then.

**Nomad609:** There's nothing average about you

**PrincetonGirl818:** Ha! If you mean because of my stepmother, I'd be inclined to agree with you

**Nomad609:** You _know_ that's not what I meant. There's more to you than the average high school female.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Blame my dad for that; it comes from being motherless

**Nomad609:** Your stepmom's not the nurturing type, huh?

**Princeton818:** Not to me. Since dad and I did everything around the house on our own, she seems to think that because I used to do it, I'll always do it. I can't wait until I graduate; once I'm across the country, she won't be able to issue any more of her 'orders'

**Nomad609:** She's not funding your tuition?

**Princeton818:** Even if she was, I'd never trust her to hold up her end of the bargain. I work a full time job on top of my schooling here; working a full time job while doing my course load at Princeton won't be any different

**Nomad609:** And no time to talk to me in there, huh?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Afraid of being forgotten?

**Nomad609:** A little.

**PrincetonGirl818:** I wouldn't worry about it, Nomad; I never forget my friends.

**Nomad609:** Real friends are hard to come by; people who accept you for who and what you are, not what they think you should be. Real acceptance is a gift - and it's not something I'll forget either.

**PrincetonGirl818:** You say that now, but just wait. We'll end up at Princeton and some pretty girl will turn your head and then where will I be?

**Nomad609:** Heh - hardly. I've seen pretty - nice to look at but most of the time there's little substance. It's hard to have a meaningful conversation with a cloud and just about as difficult to hold their attention.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Like kittens?

**Nomad609:** Exactly. Easily distracted by moving and shiny objects.

Sam's eyes widened and she burst out laughing, slapping her hand over her lips to stop the sound for traveling far. Using one hand, she typed out her response.

**PrincetonGirl818: **rofl

There was a lull in the conversation when he told her he'd be away from the keyboard for a few minutes and Sam used the chance to open her books. Next Friday she had a huge test - one of those leading up to her AP Chemistry final - and she wanted to be ready for it. With one eye on the screen, and the other on the text book, she began making her notes.

**Nomad609:** Gah, I hate exams.

**PrincetonGirl818:** You too, huh? I think I'm the only person I know who actually _likes_ them.

**Nomad609:** No kidding?

**PrincetonGirl818:** I use them like a countdown timer. The fewer I have left to do, the closer I am to getting away from here.

**Nomad609:** The fewer _I_ have left, the less time I've got to change my dad's mind about USC.

**PrincetonGirl818:** He wants you to stay local?

**Nomad609:** It's family tradition, or so he says; in reality, he needs to control everyone and everything around him - especially me.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Have you ever shown him your writing?

**Nomad609:** He'd never read it; I had to send my application to Princeton without his consent. Now I'll have to watch the mail box like a hawk

**PrincetonGirl818:** My stepmother's going to be glad to get rid of me; she's never liked having me around

**Nomad609:** Not a good match?

**PrincetonGirl818:** For my dad maybe, but all she ever did is _pretend_ to like me when he was around. One he died, she gave up on the pretense. If I didn't need her so bad for my initial tuition, I'd have figured a way out long ago.

**Nomad609:** I guess we all do what we have to, right?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Right. So what're you studying for?

**Nomad609:** History - you?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Chemistry.

**Nomad609:** You must be on a different exam schedule than I am.

**PrincetonGirl818:** The AP classes tend to be

**Nomad609:** ...

**PrincetonGirl818:** Shocked you, did I?

**Nomad609:** I shouldn't be, you're smart enough for them.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Smart enough has nothing to do with it. I'm just determined to get through this year - the sooner the better

**Nomad609:** Given any thought to what you want to major in at Princeton?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Cooking.

**Nomad609:** I hope you're joking.

**PrincetonGirl818:** How come?

**Nomad609:** You're too smart to be a chef - but then again... if that's your dream, who am I to judge?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Ha! I _am_ joking. After being my stepmother's personal chef for years it's the _last_ thing I want to do. I don't know what I want to take.

**Nomad609:** No passions in the academic world?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Nothing like you. I figure I can take a semester of general classes and get my feet wet. Once I have a better idea of what I want to take, I'll jump right in.

**Nomad609:** Which means you might end up taking courses that conflict with mine and I'd never see you.

**PrincetonGirl818:** One thing at a time; let's get accepted first and _then _plan a course load. You're lucky, you know

**Nomad609:** In what way?

**PrincetonGirl818:** You know what you want to do with your life, you have a goal and a dream. My dream is just to make my dad's dream come true and actually _get_ to Princeton.

**Nomad609:** No dreams of your own?

**PrincetonGirl818: **They're silly.

**Nomad609: **Not to me. Come on, what do you dream about?

Would he laugh at her if he knew?

Sam glanced back towards her bed and the old, beat up suitcase that held the source of many of her dreams. With the death of her father, she no longer had anyone to toss the ball around with - Carter was okay to load the pitching machine, but he wasn't the sporty type. Fiona had, in unequivocal terms, denied her the chance to play on the girl's team in their neighborhood in favor of working around the house or Diner.

Still, Nomad hadn't laughed whenever she'd told him anything else that was a little off. He seemed to understand her in ways no one else did - and he already knew what it was to have a dream you couldn't easily share. It was only fair he know hers.

**PrincetonGirl818: **I want to find my fairytale

**Nomad609:** Don't you mean your prince?

**PrincetonGirl818:** No, I mean my fairytale. My dad always said that fairytales don't come true, but that they held important lessons. About following your dreams and doing what's right because that's the way things _should_ be, if that makes sense.

**Nomad609:** And no interest in a Prince to share that fairytale with you?

If only.

She'd never been on a real date before; never been kissed or held a boy's hand. Sam had a feeling she'd be out of her league with college boys - but the _right_ guy would understand and appreciate it. Staring at the cursor in her response box, she was starting to wonder if Nomad was that guy. He _hadn't_ laughed, which was a good sign.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Eventually, maybe. I figure one thing at a time; get out of here first, find my Prince Charming later. I don't have time for guys right now.

**Nomad609:** Not even me?

**PrincetonGirl818:** I _make_ time for you. I haven't had more than four or five hours of sleep a night since we met - and I'm not complaining. I would have said something if I didn't want to be here.

**Nomad609:** I sleep more than you do but not by much. If you're tired, you should turn in.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Tired I can deal with; it's a permanent consequence of living with my stepmother. Besides, I'd be awake to finish my homework anyway even if you weren't around; this way I'm doing something I need to do and something I want to too.

**Nomad609:** Don't you ever take time for yourself?

**PrincetonGirl818:** I count this as 'me time' - and I want to share it with you.


	6. Weekend Bliss

**Weekend Bliss**

_**October 24**_

Shelby's continued discourse as Austin walked with her and their friends in from the parking lot slid over him like a blanket of sound. Less and less was she able to hold his attention and, lately, he'd been almost painfully aware of her cruelty to those not of their social circle. She didn't care, didn't think beyond her hair or clothes - and _why_ had he ever begun dating her again? She was pretty, so what? He wasn't that shallow was he?

"So, what're _we_ doing this weekend, Austin?"

His name within the question caught him by surprise - Shelby didn't normally _ask _what they were doing, she told him.

"It's game night," Ryan put in before Austin answered. "Whatever else you have planned will have to wait until after the game."

Shelby waved Ryan's comment away with a flutter of her fingers. "Whatever. The weekend isn't just Friday night."

"I'm working," Austin informed her with a shrug.

"You never spend any time with me anymore." Shelby complained with a sharp look Austin had no trouble interpreting; she felt neglected. "Everything is school, work or practice with you lately."

"Dad's insisting."

"Then maybe I'll just have to convince him to let you come out to play for a bit."

Austin sincerely hoped not. For all he hated working at the Car Wash - particularly because of the increasing USC comments by his father - he didn't really want to spend that time with Shelby either. Given the choice, he'd be laid up at home all weekend with Princeton Girl on the other end of his internet connection.

"You can try," he conceded. "But I think dad's pretty adamant about it."

"Ada-what?"

Austin _almost _rolled his eyes; Shelby - for all her good looks - was not the brightest crayon in the box. Amending his sentence, he corrected it for her. "I don't think he'll change his mind."

"We'll just see about that." Shelby walked away in a huff, her two fellow cheerleaders following.

David slapped Austin on the shoulder. "Dude, something tells me you're not working this weekend."

Knowing Shelby could wrap his father around her little finger, Austin was inclined to agree, except his father _had_ been adamant about him learning yet more of the business this weekend. "I dunno, man - my dad was pretty insistent about it; said I needed to pay more attention to the everyday workings so I knew how to run it properly when my term at USC's finished."

"You're so set, man," Ryan told him enviously. "Your dad's got an inside track for you at USC, you have a job set up for _life_ and you get to be your own boss - you'll never have to work for anyone else ever again."

Except his father.

"Sure, whatever," he told his friend noncommittally. No one except Princeton Girl knew of his intention to be 3000 miles away once University started. It was at that moment that his cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he checked his watch; he was late. "I'll catch you guys later."

"Hey wait, where are you off to, bro?"

"I've got something to take care of before class," Austin hedged as his fingers tightened on the strap of his backpack. It was a struggle to keep them away from his pocket and act natural.

"You've got something to do _every_ morning," David complained. "You never hang with us anymore, man."

"Sorry Dave, but school comes first." Leaving his friends behind to stare after him in surprise, he headed for his usually morning seat at the 'Friendship Circle' as he pulled his phone from his pocket. David and Ryan didn't follow him - they never did - and Austin was careful to ensure they knew nothing about Princeton Girl yet.

Maybe, once he'd had a chance to meet her, he'd introduce them around. Quickly scanning the message, he chuckled once; she always knew how to make him smile.

_Good morning lazybones :)_

At least one of them was in a relatively good mood. Glancing up, Austin slid his bag under the bench and settled above it. Quickly - he'd become a practical expert with his phone when it came to texting over the last few weeks - he sent her back a reply.

_You too._

It didn't take long before she messaged him back once again. _You're late - trouble?_

_Dad's been at it again_, he sent back. _I've been thinking about you all morning._

_It's barely morning._

He laughed again, softly, glancing up before sending her his answer. _Barely or not, it doesn't matter. You working tonight?_

_I have tonight off - for once._

_For once?_ He quirked an eyebrow at the screen despite the fact she couldn't see him. _Don't you get nights off?_

_Fridays? Hardly. Somehow I have the next 2 in a row off though._

Which meant she'd probably be going to the Homecoming dance... and an idea began to form in his mind. _Do you have plans for tonight?_

_Get ahead on my homework_, came the expected admission. If anything, Austin had learned that Princeton Girl took her studies super serious. _You?_

_Father & son stuff_, he told her honestly, feeling bad he hadn't had the gumption to tell her he played on the football team - but that would have given her a clue to his identity and he didn't want her to think he was a dumb jock. Would she recognize him when they met? Probably - everyone knew his face after his father had practically bullied him into that 'Student Body President' election. It was just his luck that the girl he wanted to talk with had the night off and he didn't.

If he'd thought for a second he could convince her to meet him, he would have - except he didn't want her to see him in the role he was expected to play; he wanted her to see _him_.

_I'll be home by 11._

_I'll be waiting. _

The warning bell rang, signaling an end to their conversation. Austin sat back for a moment, staring at those words and struggling _not_ to read too much into them. The more he talked to her, the harder it was to deny he found her personality and wit attractive. He knew she'd be able to hold his attention once they met in person; not because of her looks, but because of her ability to communicate what she was thinking.

Distraction was the name of the game though the day. He was able to text her briefly at lunch before being pulled into a meeting he couldn't miss for the football team. Somehow he managed to fake enough attention to get through it without really remembering who they were playing or the game plan; not that it mattered since the coach mostly called the plays from the sidelines - unless Austin felt he was wrong.

Later that evening, during the first play of the second quarter, that Austin's distraction cost him - and gave him what he'd been hoping for. Scrambling out of the pocket to avoid a blitz, he'd rolled right, then left before lobbing the ball out right - but in the process managed to twist an ankle.

Coach had pulled him immediately - unwilling to chance greater injury - and Ryan had replaced him. Benched, with the trainer examining his ankle, his dad had crouched next to him.

"How's the ankle?"

"I'm fine."

Disbelieving his son, Andy Ames turned his gaze to the trainer - who contradicted Austin's story. "There's a little swelling but the ice should take care of that. If he can stay off it as much as possible for the next few days, he should be set for next week when we take on the Lancers."

Andy clapped his son on the shoulder. "That's it then. We'll work on the books on Monday; Shelby was telling me you're not spending as much time with her as usual. Why don't you have her over since you'll be laid up all weekend?"

Austin considered fighting his dad on the 'laid up' bit - the ankle really _didn't _hurt and it wasn't as if he'd never rolled one before - except if he did it would mean working all weekend. Not that he didn't _want_ to work, but if he went he'd be stuck doing inventory and that was the _most_ unappealing job. It was almost frightening how much pride his father took in the small task.

"Shelby's not big on staying in," he reminded his father, well aware that his dad was particularly fond of his superficial girlfriend. "She'd be bored in no time."

It hadn't, unfortunately, stopped his father from suggesting it to Shelby anyway - and Shelby had promised to be by first thing Saturday; after shopping, her manicure and regularly scheduled massage. Austin figured she'd show up around dinner time, if at all - which gave him plenty of time to enjoy Princeton Girl's company.

Using his injury as an excuse, he cried off the usual victory celebration and headed home instead. Princeton Girl, he discovered upon logging in almost an hour before he'd said he would be there, was online as she'd promised and - according to her first message - not feeling well.

**Nomad609:** Anything I can help with?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Not unless you own a magic wand to make me better. I hate being sick, and I can't afford to take the time off.

**Nomad609:** Even when you'll have me to keep you company?

**PrincetonGirl818:** I thought you had plans this weekend.

**Nomad609:** They were canceled. I'm all yours

What she didn't yet realize was that it was true in many different ways.

It turned out that she took the next two days off to avoid making anyone else sick - and spent them with him. They broke only for meals - and most of those were simply to get food to eat at the keyboard - or when Princeton Girl's cold dictated her necessity for sleep. Despite the few hours of absences in between their three or four hour chats, it brought them closer together... and Austin's determination only grew.

He would meet her, and soon - except he would do it as a free man. Shelby's presence that weekend - sporadic as it was - only re-enforced his belief that there was nothing between them anymore. She'd spent more time with his dad anyway, which had been fine by him.

Come Monday morning when Austin was preparing to go to school, he'd come to one inescapable conclusion. The Homecoming Dance was the following Friday - a night he knew Princeton Girl to have off - and a place where they could go as something other than themselves. It would be fitting to meet her at a Halloween party - poetic justice.

Now he just had to figure out how to convince her.


	7. Cloud Nine

**Cloud Nine**

_**October 27**_

Sam pulled up to Carter's house on Monday morning wearing a smile that nearly blinded him when he slid into the seat beside her.

"Weren't you sick all weekend?"

"Yeah."

"I take it you're feeling better?"

Sam rolled her eyes as she put the car into gear and pulled back out into the lane. "How was your weekend, Carter?"

"Do the words 'cruel and unusual punishment' mean anything to you?"

"Dad had you polish the car again, huh?"

"_And_ he wouldn't let me take it out for a spin afterwards."

With a giggle, Sam checked her mirror. "Were you expecting otherwise? Sometimes I think your dad loves that car more than you."

"What's got you in such a good mood today? I thought you hated being sick."

"I do, normally."

"So what was different about this?"

"Nomad."

"Nom... don't tell me you talked to him _all _weekend?"

Nodding as she pulled out onto the main drag, Sam couldn't keep the grin from her lips. "Yup. I was so sick on Saturday morning, Fiona and the girls didn't want anything to do with me and went out for breakfast instead of risk catching my cold."

"I thought you had to work this weekend."

"Rhonda practically ordered me to stay home when I called to tell her how I was feeling. Fiona didn't like it, but sick patrons don't spend money so she had to accept it."

"Which means you can't take a sick day for another two years."

"So what? I'll be at Princeton next fall and Fiona can find someone else to do her dirty work."

Carter was silent for several minutes as they sped across the asphalt towards North Valley High School. They were nearly there before he spoke again.

"All weekend huh?"

"Yeah..."

"What'd you talk about _all weekend_ when you two don't even know each other's identities?"

"That, partially. We talked about some of the horror stories we've read about internet relationships."

"Worried you'll be one of them?"

"Carter!" Sam laughed, shaking her head. "No way."

"So when are you going to meet him?"

"I don't know if I should," Sam hedged, some of the light disappearing from her smile. It was the same question that had been plaguing her all weekend. It wasn't that she _didn't_ want to meet Nomad - on the contrary, she wanted to meet him very much - but she was terrified. Whatever he was expecting, she doubts it would be her.

"Don't you want to?"

Turning into the student parking lot, Sam began scouring for a parking spot; the downside of working first thing in the morning at the Diner was that they were almost always left searching for some place to park - and several days a week cut off by 'cool kids' determined to get the best parking space possible.

"It's not a matter of want," she explained and she scanned the aisles ahead of them. "I'd love to meet him."

"Then what's stopping you? I thought you said he wants to meet you too."

"He does, or so he says."

"Why would he lie about that?"

"I never said he was lying - I just don't think he realizes what he's asking for."

"There's a stall."

Sam pulled in quickly, keeping an eye out for the 'cool' students who liked to cut them off sometimes and killed the engine. "Besides, he might keep asking, but he's never suggested a place or a time. Maybe he really doesn't want to meet me."

"You're making excuses." Carter climbed out of the passenger seat and jumped back as another car pulled in beside them, nearly clipping him. Laughter could be heard from the back seat as Carter glared at them and then retrieved his bag from the back seat of Sam's convertible. "Any guy who can hold your attention the way this Nomad guy can is bound to be just as interesting in person."

"And if he's not?"

" You talk to him all the time; nobody knows you like he does."

"Except you." They fell into step together as they headed for the main doors, Sam adjusting her baseball cap as they went. "But knowing someone and actually _knowing_ someone are two different things. I mean, you know me - the me you see every day. You know - the one without fashion sense?"

"Without... Sam! Who's the one who objects to driving me to school whenever she thinks what I'm wearing for an audition is over the top?"

"Me."

"Exactly. You. Just because Fiona doesn't give you the kind of allowance for clothes she does for Gabriella and Brianna, doesn't mean you don't know what looks good." Carter hefted his bag over one shoulder, adjusting the strap. "You just prefer to be comfortable, there's nothing wrong with that. Besides, any guy who's meeting people online isn't exactly in the conversation for fashion tips."

Sam laughed - she couldn't help it. "That actually made sense, Carter."

They separated, Carter heading for the drama room to speak with his teacher about his next method assignment, as Sam headed for the court yard. Middle of a drought or no, it was still a beautiful place to relax before classes started. Her cell phone trilled, indicating her first message of the day as she settled on the bench and she flipped it open with preamble.

_Are you here yet?_

_Just got here._

_Feeling any better?_

His concern made her smile. _Much. I think your company is good for my health._

_I do what I can. _

And what he'd done was keep her spirits up all weekend. True, she'd been limited to her time online simply because her body had craved sleep, but he'd always been there when she'd returned. Buoyed, she wrote him back without thinking.

_Which is more than most people - you make me smile._

_If you smile as much as I do when we talk, I hope to see it a lot when we meet._

Her heart jumped in her chest, but she wasn't about to enter those waters just yet. Nomad had already invaded her dreams this weekend, who knew what else he'd eventually claim? _How'd your dad take the fact you were online all weekend?_

_All he cares about is that I'm back on my feet. You'd think a twisted ankle was the end of the world._

_Only when the guy involved is you._ Chewing on her lip, she wondered if he was bored with her yet - and asked him anyway. Nomad could be brutally honest when there was something bothering him and she didn't want that something to be her. _You still want to talk to me after this weekend, right?_

_Why wouldn't I? I haven't enjoyed my weekend that much in a long time._

The warning bell rang and Sam rose to her feet, shouldering her bag as she did. Glancing up, she typed back a response. _I had fun too._

Folding her phone closed, she pocketed it, knowing it could be confiscated if the teachers caught her with it in class and that wasn't something she was willing to sacrifice. Her conversations with Nomad were like oxygen; she wasn't certain anymore if she could ever do without them - and that was almost as terrifying as the prospect of meeting him.


	8. Prelude to an Invitation

**Prelude to an Invitation**

_**October 30**_

_Soon!_

Austin closed his phone, looking around the courtyard as it cleared of students and not really seeing it. Early morning text sessions with Princeton Girl were now commonplace. They talked _all_ the time. His lunch hours and free periods were now spent in the library - to the dismay of his friends. During breaks at practice, he sent her notes; he couldn't take his mind off her.

Over the last few weeks, they'd begun talking more and more, taking every free moment to send each other notes. She invaded his dreams - a faceless young woman with an indistinct voice. The writer in him had been pushed beyond the limit and there were poem after poem on his hard drive at home about her; poems no one would likely never see.

Unless their meeting happened soon, his father and his friends were going to start noticing a drop in his effectiveness on the field - barring the slip from this past Friday of course. That slip, however, had been fortunate in its own way and given him a chance to spend a virtual weekend getting to know Princeton Girl better than he already did.

Princeton Girl invaded his thoughts at the oddest of times; during practice, in the shower, at work - she was constantly saying things that stuck in his head or challenged him to think beyond his comfort zone. She forced him to consider things about himself he hadn't given much thought to in the past - to see the him he wanted to be in another light.

If any of his friends had known about his obsession, they'd probably call him infatuated; Austin was starting to suspect it went deeper than that, but he'd never know if he couldn't convince her to meet him... and he still hadn't found the _right_ way to ask her to be his date on Friday.

"Dude, there you are; we're going to be late!"

Raising one hand in acknowledgment, Austin stood, pocketing his phone and knowing he wouldn't hear back from her again until the free period before lunch at the very least. Every day it was getting harder and harder to fit himself back into the mold he was able to escape during the late night discussions with Princeton Girl.

Fear, however, was a powerful motivator. He had no desire to get into an argument with his father about 'The Plan' that he'd been following as long as he could remember. USC Football practically had a locker emblazoned with the name "A. Ames" in permanent ink, his father and grandfather both having played and having made it clear that Austin was expected to follow in their footsteps - and be happy about it.

He'd tried, he really had. He'd worked his tail off to ensure he not only made starting quarterback, but team Captain; he'd gone the extra mile, practicing on his weekends and training to ensure he was in top physical shape. Throwing the ball with his friends whenever possible, working on his scrambling to stay out of the pocket - or in it; all of it...and all of it had been for nothing.

He was playing a game he didn't love because his father had insisted he stick with it through pee wee and through the years. Never - when he'd shown the slightest bit of interest in another sport - had his father encouraged him the way he did for football. Austin had been luck to be a naturally gifted athlete - he could likely have played just about any sport - and excelled in his gym classes, but the focus had always been football.

Slipping into his first class of the morning, Austin glanced at the clock and mentally calculated how long before he would be able to text Princeton Girl again - or, better yet, get her online in the library. Looking out the window, he idly tapped his fingers on the counter top of his lab station, pondering the meaning of her last text.

_Soon!_

What was soon to her?

"Mister Ames."

Austin snapped out of his absent minded stare and turned towards the front of the class.

"Yes Professor Rothman?"

"Was there something you'd like to share with the class?"

If he hadn't been so used to being the center of attention, Austin might have reacted differently. As it was, he simply shrugged and gave the answer that was not only the most likely, but the most expected. "No, sir. Just thinking about the game against the Lancers this Friday."

There was a rousing cheer from some of his classmates and a slap on the shoulder from David - and Professor Rothman turned back to the chalk board to resume his lesson. Austin, for his part, tried to focus. Except Princeton Girl's last message kept reverberating around in his head.

_Soon!_

Soon wasn't soon enough, in his opinion; maybe he should just try and surprise her, convince her to meet him before school - except he didn't want that. He wanted their meeting to be someplace where they didn't feel obligated to spend time with one another if they weren't compatible. Yeah right - as if they wouldn't be.

After spending the better part of two months - a time in which he'd become obsessed and infatuated with her - there was no _way_ they weren't. Princeton Girl knew _him_. She knew what he was underneath and what he wasn't and she knew it without having seen him at all. Appearances, as he knew, could be deceiving - and the more he considered it, the more he knew it to be true. _He _wasn't what he appeared to be, he doubted she was either.

His smile went unnoticed by his classmates, wiped away only by the sound of the bell indicating he'd missed a good portion of his Biology class and day dreamed it away. Collecting his things, he moved into the hallway towards his next class, considering the circumstances surrounding himself and Princeton Girl.

Of course, with his luck of late, the girl at the other end of the keyboard would be a football groupie and swoon the moment she met him in person. He'd gathered she was athletic but he _hoped_ she wasn't a groupie; disappointment would be inevitable on both their parts.

Good sense reared its head as he entered his English class - the _only_ topic capable of riveting him enough to push Princeton Girl to the back of his mind for a while - and he shook his head at his own paranoia.

If she _were _a groupie, she'd have reacted much differently when he'd mentioned USC football. Instead, he remembered that she hadn't even mentioned it beyond asking politely - as least he guessed it was politely. Their conversation had been more focused on personal dreams than any actual one dream or series of.

Free period arrived and Austin settled himself in the chair that had become so familiar over the last few weeks, placing his books on the table at his left elbow as he logged into the computer. The Librarian walked by, giving him a smile of welcome, before disappearing back to her office. There were several other students already at various terminals but this wasn't the only location in the school where kids could connect.

If it had been, he suspected he'd have met his chat partner long before now.

He logged into his account and pulled up the word processor for getting a head start on the essay that was due on Friday and waited. Five minutes later, the alert he was expecting appeared. Opening the chat window, he sent her an inquiry.

**Nomad609: **How's your day so far?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Yech. Work, raging stepmom and cool kids who can't get over themselves. Ever feel like you don't belong?

Did he ever. More and more it was becoming obvious that he didn't fit in with his group of friends, not just because he had different goals and dreams, but because he didn't find amusement in a lot of the same things they did anymore. They envied him; he wished they'd grow up and show some maturity - like Princeton girl.

**Nomad609:** Absolutely. I can be surrounded by a sea of people and still feel all alone. Then I think of you.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Hey Nomad, do you think we've ever met?

**Nomad609:** I dunno, our school has over 3500 kids.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Well that narrows it down.

He laughed softly, the tilt of his lips cautiously neutral lest someone take an interest in what he was doing. There were risks to chatting with her at school, but they were risks he was willing to take.

**Nomad609:** Well, at least I can eliminate all the guys. You're... not a guy, right? Because if you are, I'll kick your butt.

**PrincetonGirl818:** I am _not_ a guy.

In all the things she'd said to him so far, Austin wondered if he'd ever felt the kind of relief he did at that moment.

**Nomad609:** Just checking. You don't talk like any guy I know.

**PrincetonGirl818: **I will take that as a compliment.

**Nomad609:** How'd you do on your Chemistry test?

**PrincetonGirl818:** Same as always. You?

**Nomad609:** Same here. I think my dad was expecting me to just forget about my grades all together - my marks keep surprising him.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Rough morning?

**Nomad609:** USC talk; he's pulling in favors to ensure he gets what he wants - me on the team

**PrincetonGirl818:** He must be pretty influential to do that.

She was close, but Austin wasn't quite ready to give up a detail like that to identify himself - not when he had every intention of using Friday and the Homecoming Dance as a means to meet her.

**Nomad609:** He sure likes to think so.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Other than dad issues, how's _your_ day so far?

**Nomad609:** Good... though I might fail my biology class

**PrincetonGirl818: **Professor Rothman giving you a hard time?

**Nomad609:** It's my own fault - you're too tempting of a distraction.

**PrincetonGirl818: **Just think, when we do meet, you can stop thinking about me.

**Nomad609:** Unlikely. You have a knack for making me think if I want to or not.

Free period and the lunch hour passed far too quickly for Austin's liking, ending their conversation prematurely in his opinion. Every time he talked to her, the shorter the conversations felt. It wasn't that they didn't talk about anything, it was more that they talked about so much, he didn't notice the passing of time.

She worked tonight; he had practice. Later, when she was finished and online at her regular time, he would have to find some way to broach the topic of the Homecoming Dance and convince her to meet him. He had a few hours to figure it out and was confident he would; it was just a matter of picking the right words so she understood just how much he _needed_ to meet her.

--------

That night he got his chance. Like usual, Princeton Girl logged on at nine and, as usual, time flew by as they chatted back and forth. Five hours passed as if in a heartbeat before he finally found the right way to phrase his invitation - and a way that didn't obligate her to go with him, but to stay with him if she chose once she arrived.

Before she logged off, he didn't receive a reply but someone he knew he'd planted a suggestion she likely wouldn't be able to resist.

The Homecoming dance was the perfect set up and not being obligated to be his date the perfect out. She'd meet him; he knew she would, the question now simply remained as to who she was exactly. Would he know her? Was she someone he'd already met or was she someone he'd never encountered before?

The mystery was about to be solved and, despite the knowledge that he'd meet her the following night, Austin knew he'd sleep fitfully and she'd be invading his dreams again. Unable to help himself, he'd be trying to picture her, what she'd be wearing - how she'd sound.

He was in for a long night.


	9. Becoming Cinderella

**Becoming Cinderella**

_**October 31**_

"I don't know about this."

"Hold still."

"Rhonda, I don't think-"

"Sam!" The exasperation in Rhonda's tone was unmistakable. "If you don't hold still, I'll never get this finished."

"Are you sure about this?" The younger woman queried, her back to the mirror as Rhonda continued to apply the last of the makeup; she hadn't been able to see her face and it was driving her crazy wondering how ridiculous she was going to look. Already her hair was piled on top of her head and pulled back away from her face in such an unnatural fashion it made her feel naked - and she had yet to put the dress on. "I mean, maybe I should-"

"No." Rhonda stepped back, her gaze sliding from one side of Sam's face to the other. "Close your eyes. We've been through this; you're wearing that dress."

"But I've never worn anything like it before, what if I trip and fall on my face?"

"You won't."

"Everyone will laugh at me."

"They'll be too busy staring, wondering where you came from, to laugh; you're a very beautiful young woman, Sam."

"Fiona doesn't think so."

"And since when does Fiona's opinion matter? Open... perfect!"

"Well, since never; but it's not like anyone has ever really contradicted her." Sam shifted nervously in her chair. "Boys aren't exactly going out of their way to compliment me."

"You wouldn't appreciate it anyway," was the amused reply. "Besides, this secret admirer of yours doesn't care what you look like."

"So he says," with a sigh, Sam winced as Rhonda reached up to adjust her hairdo, sliding another couple of pins to hold it in place on the tops and sides of her head. "What if he doesn't like me, Rhonda?"

Rhonda grinned. "What's not to like? Take a look."

Turning slowly, Sam took a deep breath, glancing Rhonda's way before looking at herself in the mirror - and stared. Gone was the plain Jane that went to East Valley High School daily; in her place sat a stranger.

With her blonde hair piled high on her head and curls cascading down about her face, it softened the angles she was used to seeing, making her seem that much more feminine. The colors Rhonda had selected for her makeup were complimentary and minor; just enough to accent the darkness in her eyes and bring out the silver specks within so that they almost looked gray. The colors would be visible through the eye holes of the mask, drawing the gaze naturally to them. A touch of gloss on her lips made them shine and they parted as she took in the look - and then looked back Rhonda's way.

But Rhonda's expression stopped her from voicing the uneasy feeling that churned in her gut upon looking at the strange girl who sat at Rhonda's vanity table. This wasn't her; yet a thrill of excitement skated down her spine on the heels of unease - she'd never known she could look like this.

"So? What do you think?"

"I... thanks Rhonda."

"We're not done yet - let's get you dressed; I can't wait to see what Carter does when he sees you in this."

"It's not Carter's opinion I'm worried about."

"He's a man," Rhonda told her with a grin. "If he thinks you look good, everyone else will too."

"He bias; he has to say I look good."

Laughing, Rhonda shook her head. "You have a lot to learn about men, Sam. Carter's initial reaction - what he says or does - will be the most honest one. If he thinks you look good, chances are you look stunning - and you will."

"If you say so." Unconvinced, Sam rose from her seat as Rhonda laid the dress out on the bed, and approached it cautiously. "I won't be able to do it up on my own."

"Just slip into it and call me when you need."

Sam was left with the creation she'd been practically railroaded into wearing despite the fact she found she liked it. It was a gorgeous gown and she felt more than a little funny with the idea that she would be wearing it shortly. Taking a deep breath, Sam shrugged out of the bath robe Rhonda had insisted she wear while getting her hair and makeup done. She'd felt more than a little ridiculous wearing it, but Rhonda had insisted she be ready to simply slip into the dress with as minor a fuss as possible afterwards.

Unused to dressing up for any occasion - Sam couldn't remember the last time she'd worn a pretty dress... her dad's wedding to Fiona maybe? - she hadn't been able to fight Rhonda's suggestions with any kind of logical come back.

Now, standing in Rhonda's bedroom with little on as she gingerly reached for the gown, Sam had to admit that Rhonda had been right. Dressing down after the fact would have been a hassle - and it was ten after ten according to the clock; she didn't have much time left to get ready. Taking a deep breath, she turned her back to the mirror and carefully stepped into the gown.

Fabric rustled, catching about her feet and hips, but with a minimal fuss the gown settled about her waist. The draft from below was unusual and she had the sudden sensation of being naked - the urge to put her jeans on underneath was strong, but Rhonda would _never_ have allowed it. Fighting back the unease, Sam lifted the beaded waist and lace top to her chest. "Rhonda?"

The door opened immediately and Rhonda stepped back in - all business as she stepped to Sam's back. With deft movements, she fastened the dress. Sam inhaled, closing her eyes as Rhonda's fingers worked on the fasteners and told herself that this was normal, that dresses were supposed to be constricting in some ways.

"Breathe, Sam," Rhonda admonished teasingly. "You look gorgeous."

"I feel naked."

Laughing, Rhonda finished fastening the gown and adjusted it with deft, impersonal moves. "You certainly don't look it." Eyeing Sam critically, she made two more quick changes before nodding to herself. "Shoes. You need shoes. Wait there."

Sam did as she was told, crossing her arms over her chest as she struggled against the feeling that she was more exposed now than she'd ever been before. The skirt twisted about her legs, encasing them in fabric, but leaving them free all at the same time and she'd never felt so out of her league before.

Rhonda returned with a pair of pale blue, sequined high heeled shoes. "Here. These should work."

"Rhonda, when did you get this?"

"Years ago," came her immediate reply. "I was about your size - as you can tell."

"You were _exactly_ my size," Sam told her peevishly as Rhonda lifted her skirt and helped her slide her feet into the shoes. They'd done her toes and finger nails first without realizing what she'd be wearing on her feet. "This dress might as well have been made for me."

"You've got a point there," conceded the older woman, her head bent. "How do those feel?"

Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Sam gave her directions for correcting the fit; and two adjustments later conceded that they felt fine. Out of place, completely foreign and beyond her comfort zone - but her feet felt fine. Rhonda hugged her. "You may feel that way, Sam, but you look absolutely breath taking. Take a look."

"I don't think I should."

"You'd better because I _will_ be taking pictures before you and Carter leave for the Dance." Rhonda brushed a curl back from Sam's face. "I wish your dad could see you right now... he'd never believe you were the same girl who hit homeruns with him in the park."

"That bad?"

"Take a look."

Turning, because she knew she didn't have much of a choice, Sam braced herself mentally for the image of what she'd look like - and stumbled backwards into Rhonda as her reflection registered. Her hands fell away from their protective cross at her chest and she stared, openly, at the young woman before her. She was okay looking - better than okay looking - almost... pretty even. Unable to help herself, Sam's hands trailed down across the lace and beads of the bodice and then down to the fabric of the skirt.

"Wow."

"Exactly. Here, you'll want this." Rhonda handed her the mask. "Try it on."

With hesitant hands, Sam carefully lifted the mask over her head and placed it about her face. Sam disappeared and a beautiful stranger took her place; a stranger Sam would have had trouble recognizing in any photograph if she hadn't known whose face lay behind the mask. "Perfect; Rhonda, it's perfect! Dad would have had trouble recognizing me in this."

"I had a lot to work with," Rhonda told her, pulling the younger woman into a hug. "And your dad would have had trouble recognizing you without the mask. Come on; let's ask Carter what he thinks."

Nerves struck from out of nowhere. "Now?"

"Of course now, you've only got twenty five minutes to get to that dance."

"I don't-"

"Sam, you're going and you look great. I'll go get Carter; wait here."

Nervously, Sam practiced walking back and forth across Rhonda's room, discovering that the skirt was long enough she had to hold it while doing so or risk tripping on the hem. She also discovered that it was easier to move in heels than she'd previously thought; they did something for her posture she hadn't been expecting. Her cell phone was going to cause a problem, but she didn't dare go without it.

It took several minutes of searching for a place to put it before she settled for hooking it onto her shoe strap. As long as she didn't have to run or anything, it should stay in place.

_"Sam!"_

Taking a deep breath - and leaving the mask on - Sam collected the skirt and stepped to the doorway. _You can do this; it's just Carter. If you're as good looking as Rhonda says, he'll say something - if not, he'll say something too. There's nothing to lose here_. With that reassurance playing firmly through her mind, Sam stepped into Rhonda's living room where Carter was waiting.

Zorro, minus the hat, straightened as if shot when she entered the room, his eyes widening in shock. Swallowing her nerves, Sam forced herself to step completely into view and turn once in a circle so he could see the whole outfit. "Well?" she finally asked when Carter seemed disinclined to comment - or was it incapable? "What do you think?"

"I-" he cleared his throat. "Sam... I... _wow_... you look _amazing_."

It was stuttering, completely unplanned or unrehearsed and about the most sincere compliment she'd ever received. "Really?"

"Haven't you looked in a mirror?" Carter rose to his feet. "If I didn't know it was you under that mask, I'd..."

Sam pulled the mask off. "You'd what?"

"I don't know," he told her with a grin and a shrug. "Try to find the courage to ask you to dance?"

"And when you realized it was me?"

"Beg your forgiveness," he grinned cheekily. "Seriously, you look _great_."

"Thanks, Carter."

"Okay, Zorro, grab your hat and stand next to her; I want a picture or two before you two rush off to meet Prince Charming."

Sam laughed as Carter pulled his hat on - and Rhonda snapped a few pictures. Rhonda posed them, getting both masked and unmasked shots - and when Sam complained telling her tartly that this was her payment for hours of hard work. Not just helping get Sam ready, but in finding her a suitable costume. Neither Sam or Carter could complain after that.

Mercifully, it was only ten minutes later when Sam was settling herself in the front seat of Mr. Ferrell's Mercedes and hoping she wasn't making the biggest mistake of her high school career. Her doubts had returned and in the time it took her and Carter to drive to the Hotel where the dance was being held, she was starting to freak out.

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"Don't think so much," Carter suggested as he pulled into the parking lot and found a space leading up to the entrance. "Worrying isn't going to help."

"I don't think I can do this."

"Sam, if he's everything he seems to be, isn't he worth it?"

"But this isn't me, Carter."

"And he won't likely be him either." Parking the car, Carter killed the engine. "Come on."

"I can't," Sam slipped down in the seat, looking around nervously.

"Why not?"

"Have _you_ ever worn a dress like this?"

"No."

Sam crossed her arms over her chest. "Me either and I feel like... like I'm not wearing anything."

"You're going in, Sam," he told her firmly, planting his hat on his head. "You didn't come this far just to back out now. If you do, you and I both know you'll regret not going for the rest of your life."

Sometimes, she hated when he was right. "Fine. Alright. Give me your cape."

Carter reached for the ties unquestioningly, handing it over and she wrapped herself in it as she climbed from the car. Ensuring she had her mask, she twisted the cape about, clutching it together in the center of her chest as her stomach roiled uncomfortably and threatened to make her sick. This was it; this was the night she'd finally meet the boy she'd been chatting with - and suddenly she wanted to crawl under a rock and hide.

As if sensing her intention to flee, Carter took her by the elbow under the cape and pulled her forward towards the Hotel. It was almost time.


	10. Homecoming Dance

**Homecoming Dance**

_**October 31**_

Austin entered the Valley Royale Hotel dressed in the ascot and overcoat of the Prince costume he'd decided on for the night. He'd had every intention, when initially intending to come with Shelby - before meeting Princeton Girl - of being the third musketeer in his friendly trio as a compliment to Shelby's three angels.

Now, he didn't want to be a part of a crowd. Plus the Prince costume gave him a chance to look his best - and he needed the extra confidence. Butterflies were crawling in his stomach and he felt a touch ill even as he felt the need to run and scream to get rid of the pent-up excitement which had him practically bursting out of his skin.

Tonight was the night.

Rubbing his hands together - as his fingers were slightly chilled - he reached up to tug at the ascot around his neck, loosening it a touch. Looking around as he descended the staircase, he didn't spy Shelby - thankfully - anywhere just yet but he did catch sight of Ryan and David. A quick scan of the dance floor showed that many of the graduating class were already in attendance and, surprisingly, he didn't catch two of the same costume anywhere unless it appeared to be deliberate.

Was _she _already here, out on the dance floor? Would she come at all, responding to his invitation with the same relish he'd felt making it? Or had he scared her off? Any one of the costumed teens could be the girl he'd been chatting with and he'd never have known it. Should he have set this up in a far less public place, trying to convince Princeton Girl that it would be better if they met some place alone?

Butterflies tightened his stomach almost painfully, making it feel as if it were inside out and upside down all at the same time. Whatever the case, it was too late now. She would show, or she wouldn't - he only hoped she was as interested in moving their relationship out of cyberspace as he was.

Unfortunately, he'd insisted on eleven as a meeting time and now he was paying for his own foolishness; he should have suggested ten, or maybe even nine - before the crowd had gotten so big. No matter; whoever she was, he wouldn't know until eleven and even then he had no intention of keeping her inside.

Following the stairs around, he did a circle of the area to get a feel for it; to know his surroundings. A circuit of the area revealed a bar beneath the stairs and an area that lead into a series of beautifully done arch ways and decorated courtyards. Knowing how to use his charm, Austin managed to pry the information from one of the ladies at the front desk of the hotel that they were preparing for a wedding ceremony in the morning - and the dress rehearsal had just completed which was why everything was still lit.

An idea had begun to form with that little tidbit of information as Austin filed it away in the back of his mind. Meeting Princeton Girl was his first objective of the night; whatever happened from there would be random chance. He headed back inside, finding that there were even _more_ dancers on the dance floor - and again the question hit him.

_Was _she_ there?_

With a shake of his head, he began wading through the crowd, heading for his friends. Sidling up to stand beside them, he kept one eye on his surroundings - trying to determine just who Princeton Girl was, or if she had even arrived yet. "Welcome guys."

"What up?" muttered David sullenly.

"Sorry about the costume you lost, _Austin_." Ryan told him peevishly by way of greeting.

Smiling, and unable to keep his curiosity from letting his gaze wander, Austin looked around as he rubbed his hands together again in an effort to calm himself. "It's all good my friends."

"So, it's _not _all good bro," David jumped in, his tone annoyed and drawing Austin's attention back his way. "Now we don't get to be the Three Musketeers. You get to be Prince Charming, and we're the two wimps in wigs."

He laughed; he couldn't help it - and it was just the tension reliever he needed. "Man, it's not the end of the world; you guys look good."

"Says the guy without the wig," Ryan returned, shifting his stance to partially block the staircase.

As it was, Austin missed Shelby's entrance and little Angelic 'Charlie's Angel's' pose. It was just as well - it wouldn't have held his attention anyway; there was no _way_ Shelby was Princeton Girl.

"You make it sound as if I lost it on purpose."

"It was awful convenient you had the extra costume, bro."

As they were talking, the song changed almost unnoticed.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Austin knew what his friend was implying and - for once - didn't feel the slightest bit guilty about having lied to them. Tonight wasn't about Austin Ames Football Captain and Student Body President; tonight was about Austin Ames, aspiring writer and poet meeting someone who could understand that dream. "Either way I'd be here without the wig and it wouldn't have been the same. Relax, guys."

"Relax? I won't rela... _Who_ is... _woah_.."

"What?" Ryan turned at David's suddenly absorbed expression, the jock's gaze on the stairway at the end of the hall. His eyebrows hit his hairline - but it was David's rapt expression that turned Austin's head... and he could only stare.

Standing at the top of the staircase was the _most_ beautiful girl Austin had ever seen. Cloaked in the shadow of the dimly lit hotel, she seemed to possessed an almost ethereal glow from within. Someone with brains, focused the spot light that had been roving the dance floor on her, and her head lifted. The light reflected off hair the color of molten sunlight, cascading down about shoulders and neck and highlighting the sparkle in her dress and half mask. The sparkle from crystals only added to the sense of unreality as she shifted, her dress shimmering brilliantly.

His mouth went dry, unable to take his gaze from the angelic creature standing alone at the top of the staircase. What idiot had let that gorgeous creature come alone and unescorted? Like a Princess accepting her due, she lifted her skirt and began to regally descend the stairs. Only the way she carefully placed her feet belied the fact she wasn't used to dressing in such lavish finery; otherwise, it suited her to a 'T'.

Gorgeous or not, it wasn't the look that held Austin riveted; it was the vulnerable, innocent air about the Princess, despite her confidence, that other beautiful women lacked. Her movements held no arrogance or practiced poise and though she was graceful, Austin could see nervousness in her posture as she descended the last few stairs.

A surge of hope swept through him out of nowhere. Was _this_ Princeton Girl? It was almost eleven, their prearranged meeting time; could he have gotten so lucky? Unable to tear his gaze away, Austin watched until she was practically lost from view. The spot light illuminated her as she met a young man dressed as Zorro at the bottom of the staircase - her escort?

The way they stood together indicated they knew one another, but something about the young man's look as he started to move through the crowd towards the center of the dance floor said they weren't _together_. Austin moved with them, taking a couple of steps to the side as he struggled to keep them in view. Lost behind several shifting dancers, his next glimpse of the Princess was to see her standing alone, directly under the disco ball in the very center of the dance floor - waiting.

_Princeton Girl._

She had to be.

Nerves assailed him and doubt crept in as the clock across the way edged towards eleven. He hesitated - and the hesitation cost him. Another guy approached her first - and while he could only see her in profile, she looked less than pleased; less than impressed. Laughter trickled Austin's way as the guy began to move, contort and cavort around her, and she disappeared as she was suddenly grabbed and spun.

The urge to dash in and play hero was sudden and fierce - but something held him back. Would she appreciate the rescue or would she tell him to go away? He hadn't even met her and already he was feeling protective.

Her back was to him when she regained her feet and he was glad to see she was alone once again. His stomach clenching yet tighter, his palm sweating, Austin moved through the crowd towards her on silent feet. The Princess sighed, her head tilting in almost wistful dejection - as if she'd been disappointed by something. Taking a silent breath, Austin let it out just as silently, bracing himself to be wrong while praying he wasn't.

"Princeton Girl?"

----------

"You'd think I'd remember those eyes. They're so... beautiful."

"Umm... next question."

He'd made her uncomfortable.

Arching one eyebrow - a move she didn't see - he was caught off guard by her sudden shyness. Most girls he knew would be delighted to receive a compliment on any feature and Princeton Girl had yet again reaffirmed that she wasn't like any other girl he knew. The look she'd given him was almost... disbelieving? Was it possible she was unaware of just _how_ gorgeous she looked tonight? As impossible as it seemed, she didn't appear to feel very comfortable in her costume - yet it fit her perfectly. Hoping to make a good first impression, as he'd been?

Probably.

If she'd felt a fraction of the nerves he had this evening, he could understand. Taking two long strides to rejoin her, he met her gaze briefly as they continued walking. "I never meant to make you uncomfortable."

"I know," she returned, her smile still in place - yet it wasn't faked; Princeton Girl had the genuine kind of smile which made him want to smile back at her. "I'm just not used to getting compliments."

He'd guessed as much. "I find that hard to believe."

To his surprise, she laughed. "If you're able to guess who I am, I think that will change."

"I don't."

"Ignorance is bliss."

"Except in this case," he corrected her with a half smile. "I'd rather know you now than never have met you in person; the unknown was driving me crazy."

Her laughter this time was softer and Austin swore he saw a hint of color on her cheeks. "Same here."

Austin offered her his hand as they rounded another corner, subtly leading her towards the gazebo where the wedding would be taking place the following morning. Princeton Girl didn't take it, in fact she didn't seem to even notice his extended hand except as an indicator - until she stumbled, her foot catching on one of the flagstones that lined the walkways.

Reacting before he thought about it, Austin's right arm snaked about her waist, his left hand catching hers as he kept her on her feet. It forced him to step close and the scent of her invaded his senses. It wasn't anything like the cloying perfume Shelby wore, but instead reminded him of rain showers and vanilla - he'd never be able to smell either one again without thinking about her.

"Thanks." She smiled faintly, unable to meet his gaze, and he could tell she was embarrassed by the misstep. "Sorry about that."

"Hey - I'd trip in heels too."

Her eyes widened behind the mask at his almost impish comment. "Wouldn't that be a sight to see!"

She straightening with his help and he reluctantly let her go, trailing the fingers of his right hand down her arm. Certain she was steady once more, he held her hand in his and flourished into an exaggerated bow as he bent over her hand. "You know, if you wanted me to hold your hand, fair maiden, all you had to do was ask." His theatrics put her at ease once more; making her laugh and the sound was like music to his ears.

"Ah, but it is you who is playing ten questions, sir - and are down by half."

"So I am." He considered his options carefully as they began to walk again, making to release her hand - reluctantly - except she didn't let him go. The delighted smile that crossed his lips was uninhibited as they continued walking, now hand in hand, down the pathway.

Exiting the archways into the clearing with the decorated gazebo, he laughed slightly as she exhaled in surprise.

"Wow."

Inspiration struck; he'd held her once by accident - would she let him hold her again on purpose? "If... I ask you to dance, does that count as a question?"

----------

_So close!_

Princeton Girl was gone by the time Austin made it outside, cell phone in hand and frustration eating at his gut. He'd been so close to finding out who she was; to learning just who was at the other end of his internet connection every night; of finding out just who it was that seemed to so intimately understand him.

Princeton Girl had been everything - more - than he'd ever dreamed she would be.

She'd been as innocent as she'd seemed in their conversations, appearing to be completely naive when it came to men - and it had been ridiculously pleasing in a very primal kind of way. The idea that she hadn't hidden those facts from him, despite her continued reluctance to give up her identity, was in some ways more intimate than anything else she could have done.

It bothered him that she didn't trust him with who she was - and yet at the same time, trusted him completely. The lady was a paradox... and he doubted she did it intentionally. He'd had every intention of kissing her once he'd discovered her identity, if she'd let him, but he'd never had a chance to remove her mask. Would she tell him who she was now that they'd met? Or had his identity, as indicated by her initial reaction, been too much for her to handle?

He'd never expected to need to practically beg her for the chance to spend some time with her. Arrogance wasn't normally one of his flaws, but he had no illusions as to his impact on the female population of his school. It came from being both popular and athletic - both things that had no place, no _relevance_ to his future; and no relevance to Princeton Girl.

Turning on his heel, Austin made to step back inside the Hotel and paused. He'd just been voted Homecoming Prince - a reality he couldn't escape - and all he could think about was the fact he was a Prince without a Princess. No one, except Zorro - or so it appeared - knew who she was and everyone would want to know. For once, being in the dark was going to work to his advantage.

Shelby pounced on him almost immediately upon his return, a smile on her lips. "Homecoming Prince, Austin," she smiled coyly. "I knew you'd get it."

"Thanks." Disentangling himself from Shelby's grip, Austin considered his options as he stopped at the top of the staircase. He could either hang out there for the rest of the night, or head home. The cell phone burning a hole in the pocket of his coat was the deciding factor. Without Princeton Girl, he had no interest in sticking around at a dance where girls would be hounding him for reasons that didn't matter.

Ignoring Shelby as she tried to catch his attention once more, Austin headed back outside and towards the gazebo where he and Princeton Girl had danced barely minutes before. He'd never been so captivated, so enthralled by a woman - and not just her looks. Her eyes had been mesmerizing, but it was her wit and intelligence that had held him spell bound. Sure, she'd been stunning, but it was the inner beauty of her character that had kept his interest when the beauty of the package had finally sunk in and stopped being so dazzling.

Settling himself on the set leading to the slightly raised platform, he turned in the doorway and stared at the decorated roof. In his mind's eye he could still see her smile, hear her laughter - and he knew himself well enough to know he was smitten.

Shelby had asked him earlier if he was in love with someone else and he'd answered her honestly. Now, after meeting Princeton Girl, he knew he'd done the right thing. Shelby could never hold a candle to the Princess who'd met him there tonight and he'd been right when he'd told Shelby he thought he was in love with someone else. He just wished he knew _who_.

Closing his eyes, he hummed the soft strains of the song they'd danced to, knowing he'd forever associate it with tonight, and couldn't keep the rueful smile off his lips as he remembered her shy retreat from his attempt to kiss her. Not that he could blame her one way or the other. If he was honest with himself, he was kind of glad he _hadn't_ been allowed to kiss her. Unbearable as it was knowing she'd been within his grasp and slipped through, Austin knew that if he _had_ kissed her as he'd intended, the hours between now and discovering her identity would have been unbearably painful.

Not that they wouldn't be anyway; if he'd had trouble taking his mind off her before, he suspected that it would now be impossible.

Until he discovered her identity, her responses - so typically Princeton Girl - would be playing havoc with his memory. He'd met her before; she'd admitted to that much - but _when_ and _where_? He was certain he couldn't have missed her, no matter that she'd told him he'd been looking without seeing; it just wasn't possible to miss someone who was that... _perfect_ for you in the crowd - was it?

"Yo, Austin!"

David's call drew him from his reverie and he looked over to find the two Musketeers headed his way. With a sigh, Austin pushed to his feet and brushed the dust from his costume, turning to meet them. He had no desire to spend any more time with _them_ tonight and the only person he did want to spend any time with had vanished.

But his reputation said he had to make an appearance and no doubt Mrs. Wells would find a stand in for the absent Homecoming Princess so they could get pictures for the yearbook. Just moments before David and Ryan would have corralled him back into the Hotel Austin stopped, smiled and turned on his booted heel to leave.

If they could find a stand in for the Princess, they could find a stand in for the Prince. He would not, could not, dance with anyone but her after what they'd shared tonight; it wouldn't feel right.


	11. Post Dance

**Post Dance**

_**November 1**_

"I'm sorry, Rhonda, if I'd know I was going to ruin it-"

"Relax, Sam, you didn't ruin it," Rhonda told her with an exasperated smile, as she helped the young woman out of the dress and placed it back on its hanger. "It just needs to be dry-cleaned and it'll be good as new."

"I'll pay for it," Sam assured her as she shrugged back into her t-shirt and jeans. "It's the least I can do after you lent it to me."

"Ah ah," the older woman grinned, shaking one finger in denial as she hung the dress on the back of her bedroom door. "No, you won't. The _only_ payment I want is the story of how things went tonight - was it worth it?"

"Every second!" Spinning, Sam collapsed into one of the wicker chairs that was near Rhonda's vanity, propping her chin in her hand as she smiled at her friend.

"So you had a good time."

"Until my alarm went off. It had the _worst _timing."

With a laugh, Rhonda settled on the edge of her bed. "So, tell me about him; what was this secret admirer of yours like? Handsome?"

"And charming."

"A double threat."

"Triple," Sam corrected impishly. "He's romantic too."

There was a moment as the two shared a grin before Sam's smile started to fade - and Rhonda picked up on it immediately.

"So what's the problem? He wasn't what you expected?"

"Not in the slightest," settling back in her chair, Sam stared at the ceiling. "I don't know what I expected, but he sure wasn't it."

"The handsome, charming and romantic just aren't your type?"

Sam considered the comment. Nomad had been a poet, a very romantic and charming poet, so those traits hadn't come as a surprise. What _had_ been a surprise was the package he'd been wrapped in. "No, not exactly," she didn't dare look at Rhonda. "More like who he turned out to be wasn't even remotely who I expected. Terry would have made more sense as Nomad than he did."

"So who was he?"

"Only the most popular guy in school," Sam covered her face with her hands and rubbed. "Austin Ames."

"The cat's meow, huh?" The name meant nothing to her as Rhonda moved to Sam's side. "Sit up Sam, you're smearing that stuff all over your face."

"Now you know why I never wear it."

"You don't need it either. So what's so great about this Austin Ames anyway?"

"Ugh," reluctantly, Sam pulled her hands away and sat forward as Rhonda prepared a cloth. "If you'd asked me that a week ago, I'd have told you nothing but being a glorified pain."

"Is he not very nice to you?"

Sam considered her answer. "_He's_ fine; it's the people he hangs around with that are awful. His best friends and girl... _ex_-girlfriend delight in calling me 'Diner Girl', or they pick on Carter. Austin doesn't do anything to stop it, but I guess it says something that he never joins in."

"So on his own he's what?" Rhonda's tone turned teasing. "Handsome, charming and romantic?"

"Right." Rolling her eyes, Sam shook her head as she pulled another few pins from her hairdo. "Maybe to Cinderella-"

"Cinderella?"

"It's what Mrs. Wells called me at the dance and it's kinda stuck." Sam leaned back again to stare at the ceiling. "Anyway, when Austin's on his own and we've crossed paths, he's... polite. You know, like we are with strangers?"

"And you don't see anything that's so great in that."

"Other than the fact he's the quarterback for the two time state champion football team or that he's Student Body President? Not really. There's no _way_ he could be the guy he was tonight all the time."

"Not if you don't give him a chance." Rhonda told her pointedly. "Did you vote for him?"

"Yeah," Closing her eyes, Sam submitted to Rhonda's cleansing routine. "But only because I liked his platform better than the other ones."

"And?"

"And he's proven he's someone who will follow through to the student body when he makes a promise. He took the team to state - and won - two years in a row."

"Was that something he promised in his campaign?"

"It was that or step down as team captain." Her voice was muffled as Rhonda rubbed at her lips to rid them of gloss.

"And you wanted the team to win state?"

"What? No, that was just an example! The teachers love him so his reforms to the school are easier obtained in ways that would have been impossible if we hadn't had someone the teachers couldn't resist in charge; plus he not only promised better cafeteria food, he delivered."

Laughing softly, Rhonda dropped the cloth to the side and reached for the cleanser to do the rest of Sam's face. "I have yet to hear any reason why _you_ would vote for him."

"Better him than a techno geek who lives on another planet or a bimbo whose biggest campaign promise was to introduce a required scoped neckline policy."

"Ah, the best of the worst, is that it?"

"Something like that."

"Then what's with that sigh, Sam?"

"Nothing, I just... he's better off without me."

"What? Are you crazy?"

"I'm _nothing_ like the girl he met tonight Rhonda; think about it. I wouldn't know how to do any of this without your help even if I wanted to. He's the most popular guy in school and I'm a nobody - he's rich, I'm not.... we have _nothing_ in common."

"Which is why you've spent every night for the past two months glued to your computer screen when you were _supposed_ to be sleeping? Just who do you think you're trying to fool?" Rhonda patter Sam's face dry and leaned back; she hadn't used much product - Sam didn't need it. "You two must have more in common than you think and tonight only proved it."

"I know what I have in common with _Nomad_ - but _Austin_?" Sam shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, it's like something out of a dream - to think that he might want someone like me, but I know better. Deluding myself isn't going to change anything; but it was nice while it lasted."

The clock in Rhonda's main room sounded and Sam pushed wearily to her feet. "I'd better get home before Fiona notices I'm missing."

"She won't notice unless she needs something - and it's two in the morning. Even _she_ knows you need your sleep if she wants to order you around effectively."

"Yeah, but if I'm missing when she finally calls for breakfast, they'll be hell to pay - especially once she realizes I no longer have my cell phone."

"What happened to it?"

"I must have dropped it at the dance; I'll check with the Hotel tomorrow, but it's more likely another student picked it up... or it was stepped on." Sam ran the brush Rhonda had lent her through her hair to rid it of some lingering curls. She didn't entirely succeed, but it was unlikely anyone would notice since they'd all be sleeping by the time she got home. "I'll see you at work tonight, Rhonda. Thanks again."

"I wish you'd rethink this, Sam." Rhonda moved with her to walk to the door; Sam had retrieved her car from the Diner and ferried a distraught Carter home to face his father - Carter's future was currently in limbo. "You're giving up on something before you even try."

"An impossible dream is still an impossible dream, Rhonda. Trust me, by Monday, Austin will have forgotten all about me and have moved on to the next interesting girl in his path."

Hugging the younger girl, Rhonda shook her head as she watched Sam head for her car, waiting until it was started and moving before closing her front door. Sam, she feared, had a lot to learn about men; the taste she'd given this Austin boy tonight wouldn't drive him away, but only fuel his interest. Without having given up her identity, Rhonda was certain Sam hadn't heard the last from his handsome, romantic and charming fellow.

She would bet on it.


	12. Locked Out

**Locked Out**

_**November 2**_

His weekend was shot.

For a good portion of his weekend, Austin examined the cell phone dropped by Princeton Girl at every opportunity while waiting for her to appear online - which she never did. It was a blue Samsung with silver stars across the front and back; and he _swore_ he'd seen it before he just couldn't remember where. At school for certain, but where?

It was unique enough of a design - just like the girl herself - to leave him at loose ends.

The phone, to his dismay, was locked, preventing him from checking anything - not to see to whom the phone belonged or to find information that might lead to her. It was frustrating to have such a vital clue as to her identity in his hands - and yet completely out of his reach. And the worst part was that he kept receiving text messages, who from he didn't know, and initially he'd thought she was aware he had her phone and had decided to tease him; until the messages had changed.

_I need you._

_Come see me now._

_Don't keep me waiting._

It was the general thread of the messages which had seemed so hot at first and left him with images of her from the dance intertwined with fantasies of his own making - until Sunday afternoon when the phone, which he was keeping in his pocket, vibrated and revealed the message; _Come fix fryer_. If he'd had any lingering doubts that it wasn't Princeton Girl who was sending him messages, that message ended them. Obviously whoever was sending them didn't feel the need to identify themselves to Princeton Girl which was just as frustrating as the messages themselves.

Using the time between customers while at work, Austin hijacked his father's graphics computer - the one where all of the signage for the Car Wash was designed and created - and began a flyer of his own. Princeton Girl hadn't signed on since Thursday night and he was already going through withdrawal.

Talking to her was the only chance he really got to be himself and it was something he missed and now craved like oxygen.

Of course, he reflected as he drew up a base for the poster, he might have freaked her out by just being who he was. She'd said she wasn't disappointed, but there had been something in her expression - in her voice - when she'd initially discovered who he was that had put him on the defensive.

Over and over, he replayed the Homecoming dance in his mind and over and over it was when her cell phone's alarm had rung at just before midnight that he cursed himself and her. Himself for thinking they had all night and her for not being able to trust him. But that was his own fault; maybe he'd underestimated the effect his own identity would have. It was a depressing thought.

Could she have really judged him based on who he seemed to be at school instead of the guy she had been talking with for the last couple of months? He wanted to think not, but what other explanation was there? He certainly didn't have one.

Shifting the graphic around on the screen - and for once thankful for the course his father had insisted he take - Austin centered it and chose his text. She'd been coined Cinderella at the Halloween dance by Mrs. Wells and it fit; so he'd keep it. He couldn't very well call her "Princeton Girl" on the flyer; the _last_ thing he wanted to do was have someone else try and contact her directly.

No; he wanted her to come to him, to trust him.

Since she went to his school, he'd ensure she saw the missing person flyer by plastering the school with them if necessary.

"Austin?"

Minimizing his project, Austin lifted his head to find his dad watching him from the doorway - unable to see the screen. "Yeah?"

"What're you working on?"

"Nothing yet," he lied. "I… uh… I had an idea for how to spruce up your USC Alumni sign and thought I'd give it a shot."

"Just don't save over the original design." His dad admonished with a smile. "Good to see you're taking an active interest - let me know when you're done."

"It might come out horrible."

"Trial and error," Andy reminded him, tapping his temple.

Austin smiled weakly and nodded, wishing he'd thought of a better excuse; now he'd have to come up with something for the sign on top of making his poster template. While he'd never print more than one copy at work lest his dad discover it, he knew where to get copies printed. But, until he finished both projects, he wasn't likely to be able to make it over to get them done.

Him and his big mouth.

The phone in his pocket buzzed again and this time he ignored it; it wasn't Princeton Girl messaging him so it didn't really matter what it said - except it might hold some clue as to her identity. Reaching down, he plucked the phone from his pocket and flipped it open - shaking his head at the unbelievable messages that kept coming.

_Gas the Jag._

Who was it that kept messaging her in such a demanding fashion? Her raging Stepmom maybe?

He'd never messaged her like that - at least, he didn't think he had. Still… gas the Jag wasn't very helpful, especially not when the originator didn't sign it. Holding down the power button, he shut the phone down to prevent it from receiving any more messages and killing the battery completely.

Pocketing it once more, he's put it somewhere safe later, and reopened his flyer.

It didn't take long to put it together; he didn't have a picture, just a general facial shape so he kept it with that. A large question mark was placed in the center in lieu of features - he was no artist and he couldn't have done her justice if he'd tried. All in all the flyer took maybe twenty minutes to compile and print one copy, Austin spending most of it debating the necessity of putting his cell phone number on it.

In the end he did because there was no other way to get a hold of him without clueing his dad into what he was doing - but even as he did so, he knew he was asking for trouble. Every person who made up the North Valley High School student body would have access to his phone number. Weeding out the would-be Cinderella's would be tricky but - when he found her - worth it. On the bright side, he could always change his cell number later.

Closing down the image without saving it, Austin exhaled and opened the template for the sign he'd told his father about. Saving it as a new file, he got to work. Fonts, styles and sizes were edited to make it look as if he'd been playing with it before he sat back and stared at it.

The color on the base, he changed to red and, on a whim, the "USC Alumni" to Princeton. With a grin, Austin couldn't help but fiddle

Barely ten minutes later, his dad returned. "Austin?"

"What's up?"

"How's that new look coming?"

"Slowly," he answered honestly. "It's not as good as I thought it would be."

"Don't worry about it; graphic design isn't something you really need anyway." It was a predictable reply - his father _never_ worried about anything unrelated to USC and his supposed football scholarship. "We could use your help out front if you're done."

"Sure thing dad," Austin began shutting down the program, saving his lack of progress just in case his dad got curious later and checked the clock. "Is it okay if I break in ten?"

"Just don't be too long."

"I won't."

His dad disappeared again, leaving Austin to finish shutting down the computer. Placing his flyer on a clip board, and a few pieces of paper over top it, he left the office and headed towards the cash area as instructed. In ten minutes he could head down to the shop a couple blocks away and place his flyer order; with any luck they'd be ready by morning which meant he could pick them up before class. David and Ryan would help distribute them - he wouldn't give them a choice in the matter - and he'd enlist anyone and everyone he thought might be able to practically paper the school.

One way or another he was going to find her. He _needed_ to see her again, to talk to her, and while they might have already met, he felt as if he hadn't really met her at all. Until he could see her face to face - without the mask she'd worn - he would feel as if she were hiding from him.

Maybe she was, but somehow, someway, he was going to find her and this was simply step one... and with a little luck, she'd come to him.


	13. Déjà Vu, A Deal's a Deal & Frustration

**Déjà Vu, A Deal's a Deal & Frustration**

_**November 3**_

"There's no way I missed her," Austin told his friends, frustrated. "We had a connection."

Turning to head up the hallway, Austin's attention was caught by a smiling blonde on the other side. She was laughing at something her friend had said, her face turned away, and in that profile he _swore_ he saw traces of Princeton Girl's smile. The image of it as it spread her lips in a laugh when he'd offered his hand for that first dance was an echo of the one he swore he saw now.

He continued to walk on auto pilot, feeling as if he were caught in slow motion as her head tilted and then turned. Unable to tear his gaze away, he mentally urged her to look up, to give him a glimpse of her features...

And she did.

Wide hazel eyes laced with dark green lifted, as if pulled by his mental urgings, to meet his - and disappointment lanced through him as her smile disappeared and those eyes widened. Taking in her features, he mentally compared - and dismissed - them as a match to Princeton Girl's. It was only after a moment of staring at her analytically that he realized who she was; the girl from the diner.

Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he dropped his gaze from hers and continued onwards, a strange feeling of loss sweeping through him as he did. Princeton Girl eluded him still; and now he was seeing her in every girl he came across. A quirk of a smile, the ring of a laugh or in a tilt of the head. At this rate, he'd never recognize her when she _did_ come forward. _If_ she came forward.

He missed, in his distraction, the girl walking into an open locker as she stared at him with her mouth slightly agape. He also missed, in his quest to find his perfect girl from the dance, the fact that he'd just walked right by her.

"Dude, why were you staring at _Diner Girl_?"

David's question drew him from his thoughts as Austin turned to collect the next poster from Ryan. "My over active imagination I guess. I'm seeing her everywhere but nowhere."

"Okay... but _Diner Girl_?"

"The girl I met was blonde; she's blonde."

"She could have been wearing a wig."

Austin shook his head adamantly. "No way. Trust me; that was no wig."

"How do you know?"

"I just know. The girl I'm looking for is blonde."

"Don't sweat it, bro." Slapping Austin's shoulder, David exchanged a conspiratorial grin with Ryan. "We've got your back."

The bell, announcing their next class rang, forcing the trio to split up and leaving Austin with an unfamiliar sensation of dread hanging about his shoulders. Things almost never turned out well when David said those words.

----------

Squeezing his shirt to rid it of the last of the moisture, Carter glanced Sam's way as she deliberately placed a towel she'd pilfered from the locker room down on the passenger seat of her car. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Sliding behind the wheel, Sam waited for Carter to join her. "Are you okay, Carter?"

"Fine." He assurance was short, telling Sam that he wasn't. "So when are you going to tell Austin?"

Glancing around to ensure he hadn't been overheard, Sam shot him a dark look. "I told you-"

"Ah," Carter held up one hand cutting her off. "You said you'd tell Austin the day I told Shelby. I told Shelby. It's your turn, Cinderella."

Shooting him a sidelong look, Sam bit her lip as she pulled out of the parking stall and focused on her driving. They were out on the main drag before she answered him. "I don't know about this Carter... what if he does something like Shelby?"

"_Nobody_ does anything like Shelby," Carter told her darkly and Sam was starting to think Shelby's rejection had soured her friend on the cheerleader for good... maybe what came out of this wouldn't be all bad. "Besides, you've been chatting with Austin since school started; would your chat buddy treat you the way Shelby did me?"

Sam _wanted_ to say no; in fact, before she'd discovered his identity, she would have... but now she wasn't so sure. Her hesitation cost her and Carter's next comment made her wince.

"Too good to be true, huh?"

"Yeah," Sam signaled, shoulder checking to change lanes. "I just can't think of Nomad the same way, is that horrible of me or what?"

"Or what," Carter's response was dry. "Come on; if Austin is _anything_ like the guy you chat with, you _know_ he'd never treat you the way I just was."

"Online, yeah, but when he discovers who I am I doubt he's going to jump for joy."

"He might."

Yeah right." Turning down Carter's block, Sam slowed her speed. "Let's be honest here - Austin is like... the _most_ popular guy in school and I'm nobody. The only reason he knows I'm alive is because his friends like to tease me about where I work - I doubt he even knows my name."

"You won't know until you try, Sam."

"I don't know if I _want_ to try." Pulling up in front of his house, Sam threw the car into park and killed the engine. They had a few minutes to talk before Carter would be expected inside. "I meant what I said earlier; I still think it's better to let him think about what might have been, rather than ruining it with reality."

"He's not going to go away; if you avoid him, he'll know something's up and if you just stop talking to him, you'll hurt _him_ without even explaining why."

Making a face - she hated when he was right; he knew her too well - Sam slumped in the driver's seat. "I know I can't avoid him online and I don't _want_ to - this whole in person thing is such a bad idea."

"It's a little late for second thoughts."

"No kidding."

Carter reached over and squeezed her shoulder before reaching down to collect his bag, "On the bright side, if Austin really is as great in person as he is online, the risk will be worth it."

"And if he's not?"

Carter climbed out of the car, brushing a water droplet from the tip of his nose. "If he's not, it's not as if you've lost anything but a chat buddy."

If only Carter were right. "Sure."

A sudden grin crossed Carter's face. "Besides, you promised and a deal's a deal; but you'd better tell him soon or he might start tearing the school apart to find you."

Leaving her to her own devices, Carter headed for his front door. Sam chewed her lip as she watched him go, a tightness squeezing her chest like bands of steel. She hadn't told anyone, not even Carter, exactly the kind of influence her chat partner had been on her... nor the strong feelings that went with it. If Austin was a jerk and the stuck up jock he appeared to be to everyone else, she wouldn't just be losing her chat partner.

The dance had shown her a side of Austin she'd never expected to see, hadn't even suspected was there until he'd revealed himself to be Nomad. She'd seen him be charming and funny, respectful and kind - and romantic. He'd done everything he could to make her comfortable, respected her actions when she'd pulled away - and now wished she hadn't - from his attempt to kiss her... he'd shown her something she hadn't known was possible - that Princes really do exist.

What Carter didn't seem to realize was that she'd been half in love with her chat partner before realizing who he was and the night of the dance had been dream-like in its quality - along with the first giant step over a precipice into an ocean of emotion she didn't quite understand. Knowing Nomad was Austin had given her the grounding needed the morning following the dance to realize she was chasing a dream and she'd forced herself to accept it as an impossible one.

Carter seemed to think it could be otherwise. Rubbing one hand over her lips, Sam reached for the key and reminded herself that she wasn't someone Austin and his crowd could ever accept. Still... a part of her, a very _small_ part wished it could be otherwise.

----------

Austin arrived home to an empty house - his dad was at the Car Wash - and headed straight for his room. After David and Ryan's little 'Cinderella search' he had a serious _need_ to talk to the real thing. Not just talk to her, but to ask her again - beg her really - to tell him who she was. He knew she was scared, but he'd been just as nervous about revealing who he was.

That she _hadn't_ been disappointed with his identity was something of a bonus only mitigated by the fact she was still reluctant - maybe more so - to reveal her own identity. Whoever she was, he couldn't help but wonder exactly _why_ she was so terrified. Was it something he'd done to her unknowingly? Did she have some horrid deformity that her mask had hid? Even as the thought crossed his mind, he laughed it away.

Right.

Dropping his bag on his bed, he flipped on his computer as he pulled his shirt over his head and reached for his work shirt. He had an hour or so before he was expected to report for his shift and he was _hoping_ Princeton Girl would make an appearance.

Sliding into his computer chair, Austin loaded up his AOL chat client and logged in - only to be disappointed. She wasn't online - yet. Never mind that. Clicking on her name, he opened up the chat window, knowing she'd get the message when she logged in... _if_ she logged in. Shaking off the unpleasant thought, he waited...not quite sure what to say.

The alert sounded two minutes later as he was still staring at the blank screen, trying to decide what to tell her, and her name went from offline to online. Almost immediately, the chat window had a greeting from her.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Hey!

**Nomad609:** Hey yourself.

**PrincetonGirl818:** I wasn't expecting to see you online - don't you have football practice or something after school?

**Nomad609:** Usually, but I have to work in a bit.

**PrincetonGirl818:** Oh.

**Nomad609: **Did you see my notices today?

**PrincetonGirl818:** With the way you carpeted the school, I couldn't have missed them. A little overboard, don't you think?

Was it his imagination - coupled with the fact he could not hear her voice in his head - or did she 'sound' uncomfortable? He couldn't help that; she'd refused to tell him who she was and it was driving him to distraction. So much so that his coach had ordered him out of practice after just five minutes with instructions to clear his head and come back tomorrow better focused. Not that _she_ would hear it from him.

**Nomad609:** Are you kidding?

**PrincetonGirl818:** It's a little embarrassing.

_Tough luck_, he thought peevishly. If anyone knew who she was, he could see it being embarrassing, but since that wasn't the case...

**Nomad609:** I don't see how - _no one_ seems to know your identity...

**PrincetonGirl818:** I know.

**Nomad609:** I _need_ to know who you are. I can't take my mind off you.

There was no immediate response, so Austin softened his obsessive drive with a plea; anything to get her to tell him.

**Nomad609:** Please tell me who you are.

Again, no answer forthcoming and Austin watched the screen like a hawk, waiting to see what she'd say. He was being honest with her, as honest as he could possibly be with the effect she'd had on him - why was she having such a hard time trusting him with her identity?

One minute ticked by, then two and she remained eerily silent.

Had he scared her off? Her initial reaction to his identity replayed in his mind as he waited, another minute going by as he wondered what she was thinking. Had just being _Austin Ames_ scared her away, made her feel as if she couldn't talk to him anymore? He hoped not. She knew better than anyone that Austin Ames was not just the guy everyone saw at school - that there was more to him than anyone believed.

Five minutes passed before he had to face the fact that he was being ignored - or that he'd pushed her into a corner. Placing his fingers gently overtop the keys, Austin considered what he could say. Another minute passed, the time creeping by as he waited in agony for her to say something, _anything_; to tell him what her name was, even to tell him off - though he suspected she would _never_ do something like that - even have her change the subject.

Of course, it didn't help that she knew by now he'd never let it go. With a sigh, he sent her another message, knowing he had to leave soon or risk being late to work.

**Nomad609:** Cinderella. Are you not talking to me because you freaked when you found out I am Austin Ames?

One eye on the clock, and one on the screen in front of him, Austin exhaled his disappointment when no answer of any kind was forthcoming to his question. Not a yes, or a no... was she even at the keyboard anymore? Her username still showed as active - not away - but she'd never ignored him before.

But then, he'd never made a nuisance of himself the way he had been before. Shaking his head, and knowing he couldn't delay leaving for work any longer, he logged off without adding anything and shut his computer down. Hopefully she'd leave him an answer of some kind for when he got home. Until then, their brief conversation had only whetted his appetite for more and done nothing to assuage his curiosity.

As he headed out the door with Princeton Girl still on his mind, he couldn't help but think ahead to the next day; his coach wasn't going to be happy.


	14. One Second

**One Second**

_**November 4**_

_Oh - Thank you very much, Sam._

Sam watched as Austin left the diner, a faint smile lingering on her lips. She felt his words clear through to her toes, a lingering sense of warmth settling in her chest along with a hopeful sensation she'd been denying since the night of the Homecoming dance. A sensation she hadn't dared let herself feel because she _knew_ he was beyond her - out of her reach.

Except she'd talked to him, without the mask, and he hadn't hated her! He'd even thanked her, _smiled_ at her the way he'd done at the dance... without knowing who she was. Was it possible that he _didn't_ hate her that way his friends did? She already knew he was a sweeter kind of guy than the goons he called his friends, but was he really capable of accepting _her_ or was he just-

_"Sam!"_

Fiona's snapped demand was impatient and Sam collected the bill Austin had left for his coffee before skating towards the register. Rhonda was talking to Bobby about the menu as Sam stopped beside the counter; Fiona was once again counting out bills to take with her.

"What took you so long?" Fiona didn't wait for her answer before continuing. "I'm paying you good money to wait tables, _not_ to flirt with the boys, Sam."

"He was a paying customer," she returned in self defense, holding up the bill - and noticed for the first time it was a five, not the one she'd thought it to be; coffee cost sixty cents. "I was just doing my job."

"Uh hmm," the absent agreement informed Sam that Fiona didn't buy it for a second. "I've been trying to get a hold of you for the last twenty minutes; where have you been?"

"Here, working."

"Is your cell phone shut off? I've told you before, you're _never_-"

"I lost my phone," Sam volunteered reluctantly, knowing she was in for a lecture either way; but better one on carelessness than one about the consequences of ignoring her stepmother. "I haven't gotten a replacement yet."

That drew Fiona's attention and she turned a penetrating look on Sam - one that made her shift on her skates. "I _hope_ you're joking."

"I practically live on my phone, Fiona," Sam reminded her, glancing towards the door where Austin had disappeared. Boy did she ever! "I wouldn't joke about something like that."

"Well, that's no excuse for not checking in."

Checking in? What was she, twelve? Sam bit her tongue, swallowed her pride and forced a smile. "Was there something you needed?"

"You didn't get the groceries last night like I asked you to."

"They were closed by the time I got there... and you've told me before not to buy inferior produce."

"Just make sure you get there tonight," stuffing some more bills into her cleavage, Fiona smiled sweetly at her step daughter. "You'd better find your phone, Sam, I'd hate to have to take the cost of a new one out of your wages."

Sweeping out of the diner, Sam sagged against the counter with a shake of her head.

"If I were you, I'd leave my phone lost for as long as possible."

Rhonda's statement made her grin. "If I were only getting messages from Fiona, I might." Conceded Sam as she turned to face her friend.

"And I wouldn't blame you in the slightest," Dismissing Fiona with a wave of one hand, Rhonda pinned Sam with a look she knew well as she leaned across the counter. There was a speculative look in Rhonda's eye that Sam would have had to been blind to miss. "So that was cyber dude, was it?"

"Yeah," Sam fingered the bill she hadn't yet relinquished to the register. "That was him."

"So now, explain to me why you were unwilling to talk to him when you've been talking to him almost non-stop for the last two months."

Chewing on the inside of her lip, Sam glanced away before meeting Rhonda's gaze again. "He doesn't know I'm me."

"Excuse me?"

"He doesn't know who I am, Rhonda; I told you that." Bracing herself on the counter, Sam let her feet slide until the stoppers on the front of her skates caught the floor. "I tried to tell him, but..."

"Fiona." Rhonda sighed. "Girl, you need to tell that boy who you are and soon or he might lose interest."

"I doubt it, he's been nothing if not persistent; I keep getting these e-mails begging me to tell him who I am... I just... I can't."

"Why not?"

"He'd never accept me... at least, I didn't think he would."

"Why not?"

"He's _popular_, Rhonda. Until Fiona screamed it, I don't think he even knew my name."

"But you know his."

"_Everyone_ knows his." Rhonda looked at her expectantly - and it made Sam laugh. "Okay, everyone at _school_ knows; his name is Austin."

"Austin and Sam. Has a nice ring to it."

Sam rolled her eyes and pushed away, around the counter to the till so she could cash the five and pocket her overly generous tip. "You wouldn't care what his name was, just that I was talking to a guy - who isn't Carter."

"I like Carter Sam, but he's not what you need."

"Ugh, Carter? Carter's been my friend since kindergarten and we've _never_ been that kind of couple... no matter what some of the kids at school say." Using the till to distract herself, and keep her gaze away from Rhonda's, Sam went about counting the change. "Carter's great, but he's not my Prince Charming - and he wouldn't want to be."

"Has his eyes set on another girl, huh?"

"He did," Sam confirmed. "Besides, if he _did_ have feelings for me, he _never_ would have helped me with the dance the other night. He was almost as excited about it as I was!"

There was nothing Rhonda could say to dispute that fact - not that she would want to. Sam knew that Rhonda had always suspected Carter of harboring romantic intentions towards her, some rubbish about a guy and a girl being unable to be _just _friends, but Sam had known otherwise. Carter had been hung up on Shelby Cummings since he'd begun noticing girls that weren't Sam. But, since Shelby's little let down the other day, Sam suspected Carter's infatuation with her had waned; he hadn't said as much, but the signs were there.

"Wasn't Austin one of those kids who was in here the other night, before the dance?" Rhonda's question drew Sam out of her thoughts. "One of those kids who didn't pay for their drinks?"

"You mean the ones they didn't drink?" Sam smiled faintly. "Austin's the one who offered to pay for them - the last guy out of the booth."

"Ah, a man of principal."

"Something like that. I promised Carter I'd tell him who I was, but every time I try, I keep getting cut off - or something comes up." Pocketing her tip, Sam pushed reluctantly away from the register and proceeded to tell Rhonda about the last two days, dejection lacing her tone. She described the events of the dance - which Rhonda had heard several times now, and then Austin's actions and her own... and couldn't help but feel less than bold. "I mean, he keeps trying to figure out who I am, but I'm still terrified he won't be able to accept me when he finally does. He's a nice guy - when no one else is around."

"And when he's in a crowd?"

"He's... silent."

"Nice some of the time is a start, Sammy honey," Eleanor interjected, having stopped to listen to Sam's little delima. "Nice all of the time is against human nature."

"There's a difference between being nice and being indifferent," argued Sam. "And I don't want the latter."

"How about we just work things from where we are now," suggested Rhonda with a smile. "The two of you seemed to hit it off from where I was standing."

"Us too," Eleanor added with a waved towards Bobby. "That was a downright civil conversation if I'd ever seen one."

Civil. How... quaint. Sam didn't want civil from Austin and they both knew it. "Civil is a start I guess."

"Sam, you can't give up. So what if Fiona and the evil twins keep interrupting you? They won't always be around and if you're able to catch Austin alone - however difficult it might be - telling him will be easier than doing it in front of a crowd."

"And you'll feel better for it."

"I know, I know," Sam sighed and headed back behind the counter to continue with her chores. "I just wish... I wish there wasn't such a big chance I'm going to crash and burn."

"After that smile he gave you while leaving, Sam?" Rhonda laughed as if to remind her she had a lot to learn about men. "That boy may not know your identity, but you made an impression - and a good one at that. You just need to have confidence in yourself. Trust me; once that boy realizes who you are, things will _never_ be the same again."


	15. Don't Mess With the Plan

**Don't Mess With the Plan**

_**November 5**_

"Dude, you've been hooked on _Diner Girl_ for the last week." David slapped Austin's shoulder, shouting with laughter as the football team headed back to the locker room after the pep rally to put their jerseys back. All around them the team cheered and hooted, prepped for the game that Friday - and Austin was only barely aware of it. David's comments echoed his thoughts. "Man, what were you _thinking_?"

"He wasn't thinking," Ryan retorted with a smirk as he dialed the combination on his locker. "She might be _Diner Girl _now, man, but at that dance she was hot!"

"Yeah, too bad she can't look that hot every day, right Austin?"

Unable to say anything - the look on Sam's face having been branded into his retina - Austin hauled his jersey over his head in response and opened his locker with a flick of his wrist. He didn't hear the team's continued ribbings, or answer their questions; he'd gone numb with the reality of the situation.

_Sam was Princeton Girl_.

Shelby's painfully re-enacted skit had initially led him to believe that they'd discovered Princeton Girl's identity and decided to raz him with it. Those long, mind-numbing minutes of staring at the stage as Shelby had neglected to positively identify him and instead ripped into the gil who'd befriended him and offered him acceptance for who, not what, he was had been the longest minutes of his life.

It had been like a waking nightmare; one where he could see and hear everything happening but was powerless to stop it. He's been caught in a catch 22; if he spoke up, said _anything_, his dad would have had the confirmation necessary that the farce being enacted on stage - accompanied with Shelby's knowing looks - had been a part of his life. But, if he _didn't_ say anything, he was no better than anyone else and left both himself and his mystery girl open to Shelby's attacks.

_How could I have been so _blind_?!_

"Hey man,"

Ryan slapped his shoulder, drawing him from his thoughts and Austin turned a flat stare his friend's way. "What?"

"You okay?"

"Okay?" David slung an arm around Austin's shoulders before he could answer and laughed. "Of course he's not _okay_! Would you be if you just discovered the girl you'd been obsessing over was a nobody?"

Austin shrugged David off with an angry motion, drawing a strange look from his friends. He refused to meet their gazes as he reached for his duffle bag.

"Dude, I'd be angry too if it were me," David told Ryan in an aside as Austin turned to leave without comment. "I mean, what a letdown!"

"Dave?"

"Yeah bro?"

"Do me a favor would you?"

"Sure."

Slanting a glance back at his friend, Austin tightened his grip on the handle to the change room door. He didn't want to say what he knew he was going to - but he was going to say it anyway because _appearance_ dictated he had to. "Get rid of those posters for me." Without waiting for an answer, he left and slammed the door to the change room behind him. Austin headed for his car. _Let them think what they want_, he told himself peevishly, throwing his gear in the backseat and climbing into the driver's seat. His mood was swinging, as if on a penduelm, and his anger practically evaporated as he hauled himself into the driver's seat and closed his eyes.

It didn't help; the look on Sam's face was there to haunt him. That hurt, _knowing_ look - as if she wasn't surprised by his non-verbal rejection... and expected it. As if she had judged him and found him wanting and, honeslty, he couldn't blame her. Sliding the key into the ignition, he started the engine and pulled out, barely paying attention to driving, his thoughts focused mostly inwards.

It resulted in his arrival home from the pep rally feeling more than a little sick to his stomach as he considered his options. He couldn't text Sam - he still had her cell phone - and calling her was out of the question; there was no chance she'd be online - and if she was he doubted she'd talk to him... seeing her though... he didn't know if he could do it.

He'd been so shell shocked to discover her identity, let alone in that _fashion_, he'd been unable to move when Shelby had announced it. That one look, as he'd turned to meet her gaze over his left shoulder, had given him everything he'd needed.

Sam was Princeton Girl; she was his Cinderella.

And all he'd felt was betrayed. Betrayed she'd waited and hadn't told him; betrayed his most personal desires had been aired for the student body's amusement; betrayed that - after all of their discussions - she hadn't trusted him.

_Why didn't you tell me?_

Slamming the door to his room, he threw the lock - the only way to keep his dad out - and fell backwards onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Over and over, as if in slow motion, he could hear Shelby's announcement and _see_ Sam's expression in his head. He could _see_ the way she'd been waiting for him to do something, say something - anything - about the revelation... and all he'd been able to do was turn away.

Not because he'd been horrified, or ashamed or her - but because he's been too stunned to do anything else. He should have seen it and he hadn't; Sam had all but painted it in the sky at the Diner the evening before and he'd been too self absorbed to notice... with disastrous consequences. It had taken that moment to process everything before turning around again - only to find her gone.

"Austin?"

"Go away, dad." Next to Shelby, he was the _last_ person Austin wanted to see right now.

His father tested the handle, and it rattled against the lock. "We need to talk, son."

"No," Austin ground out. "We don't."

"Open this door, Austin."

The note in his father's voice was warning enough; if he didn't unlock the door, his dad would break it down. Apparently they were going to have this talk now if he liked it or not. Austin closed his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath; no rest for the wicked - and now he would have to assure his father that he wasn't messing with 'The Plan' and lie through his teeth to do it.

"Austin!"

"I'm coming." Pushing up off his bed, he crossed the room to unlock the door, opening it but unwilling to let his father in. A petty defiance perhaps, but he _didn't_ want his dad in his room. This was _his_ space to be whatever he wanted to be and his father's presence seemed to taint that with expectation. "Yeah?"

"Care to explain what that little stunt at the pep rally was all about?"

"I told you - nothing."

"Shelby doesn't do anything that public over nothing."

And the last thing he wanted was his dad asking _Shelby_ what her little skit was about. "You got me," he lied instead, cringing on the inside. Every word out of his mouth was like a tiny betrayal of Sam and the inner him he _wanted _to be - but if he didn't say something, his father would never let it go. The truth, by now, was out of the question.

"Did that girl do something to her?"

_Captivated me_, Austin answered silently. _Listened to me; let me lean on her._ Staring at his father, he belatedly realized that _Sam_ didn't even exist; she was simply _that girl_. Choked, he turned away from the door before he said or did something - or his father read something in his expression - and paced away. "I don't know," he lied again, his tone tight. "Maybe she's still angry I broke up with her."

His father stopped in the doorway behind him, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. "Why was that anyway? I like Shelby; she's good for you."

_She's poison_, Austin thought peevishly but couldn't bring himself to say it. "It was time," he said instead, his words short.

"You should rethink that decision, son. Shelby's got potential at USC and she could be a huge help to you."

"For what, fashion tips?" Slanting his father a dark look, Austin retreated to his computer chair. "I _don't_ want to talk about Shelby right now."

"Just think about it," his father ordered. "Who's this Diner girl anyway?"

"Her _name_ is Sam."

"Friend of yours, then?"

_Only the best one I've ever had_. That revelation blindsided him - because it was true. Sam knew _him_, not what other people saw, and she'd accepted him. Only now, after this afternoon's fiasco of a rally, she'd probably never talk to him again - and if she did, she'd never believe a word that came across the screen or out of his mouth. Avoiding the question, he reached for the power button on his computer. "I've got a lot of homework, dad; do you mind?"

"I'm just trying to look out for you, son. That little skit of Shelby's obviously means something."

"Yeah - the humiliation of a girl who had the audacity to look better than she did for one night."

Austin reached behind him to grab his bag and pulled his science homework from the depths. He'd never be able to concentrate on it, but maybe his father would get the idea that he wanted to be left alone. Today, however, was _not_ that day.

"Then why was this 'Diner girl' looking straight at _you-_"

_Oh God._

"-and why did _you_ look so stunned?"

He'd had hoped his father hadn't seen that look. Not just the look on Sam's face, but likely the one on his own when she'd been unmasked. Obviously it had been too much to ask for. The answer and unshed tears stuck in the back of his throat as his jaw clenched and unclenched, his fingers tightening painfully on the text book. He couldn't have answered that if he wanted to.

"Was there something you wanted to tell me, Austin?"

_I don't want what you want; I hate football; I want to go to Princeton; I want to be a writer; I want to be with Sam!_

"Nothing," Austin managed to get out without looking at his dad. If he turned, he couldn't guarantee a similar look wouldn't be on his face. Ignoring his father, Austin opened his Chemistry book towards the back at random, and made it look as if he were studying. In reality he couldn't see the pages at all; he was still seeing the look on Sam's face when he'd turned and met her gaze.

One look.

It had taken one look for everything to fall apart.


	16. Rejected

**Rejected**

_**November 5**_

_Nobody wants me._

The rejection letter from Princeton was just icing on the cake after the disaster of a pep rally in which Sam's fragile new illusions about superstar Austin Ames had come crashing down in the face of reality. Fiona's false indignation barely masked her delight for Sam's misfortune and for a brief, disbelieving moment, Sam had actually considered that Fiona might have been sincere - that Fiona was going to at least _pretend_ to be the mother she needed.

But only for a moment.

_Nobody wants me._

Given her choices, Fiona wouldn't have her - not really. The woman only tolerated her because she was cheap labor at the Diner and around the house; a servant who didn't require a wage and one that wouldn't fight back. At least, not in the manner other, properly paid maids would. Fiona wanted a slave - and she got a slave, simply because Sam really didn't have any other options.

Which, of course, meant that Fiona really didn't want _her_ at all. No; Fiona just wanted a lap dog she could kick that wouldn't complain and while Sam played the role, it wasn't really her. None of this was. Not the drudge who smiled as she was insulted daily at the diner; nor the personal shopper who stocked the fridge. Only genius girl came close to the real her.

Other than that smidge of who she was, only her avatar, Princeton Girl, had given her the freedom to be who she was inside - but nobody really wanted _her_ either.

_Nobody wants me._

The day's events flashed before her mind. How she'd carefully chosen what she was going to wear while talking to Austin and revealing her secret; arriving at school bubbling with anticipation - and hearing Austin's message. A message she now suspected hadn't been from him at all, but a ploy to get her to the pep rally.

_"And who may you ask is this imposter? Give it up for the _pretend_ Princess, Diner Girl, Sam Montgomery!"_

Shelby's triumphant tones echoed through her head and Sam wished she had something to drown them out with - _anything_ from Austin would have been better than Shelby's voice. But he hadn't said a thing. Their eyes had locked and she'd _seen_ the accusation, the betrayal in his gaze... seen the way his illusions of her had been shattered beneath reality. It was everything she'd dreaded and more, except her heart had broken with it.

He didn't want her.

For all his sweet words, his impassioned pleas, he hadn't _really_ wanted to know who she was; he wanted his dream girl to be as he was. Yet, he had to have known by their discussions and silence since their meeting that she was anything but a part of his world.

Biting her bottom lip between her teeth, Sam blindly reached for a tissue and blew her nose, drying her eyes as she stared without seeing out the window. The only person who'd ever wanted her around had been her father; her best friend before Carter had moved in to fill that void.

Even Carter didn't really _want_ her around; it was more like a mutual bonding of geeks and outcasts - like Terry's sometime addition to their group - and if Shelby had given Carter even a hint of encouragement before the dance, Sam knew very well that Carter would have followed her to the ends of the earth. After witnessing Shelby's reaction to Carter's identity, Sam knew she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up.

She _knew_ better than to have believed Austin to be anything but a shallow jock.

Yet, she had anyway.

After his actions at the dance, tied together with their discussions over the last three months - more importantly over the last few days - and then their discussion at the Diner, she'd begun to believe he was different. That he really was the guy he claimed to want to be; that he'd be able to not only accept who she really was, but that he _wanted_ her.

But no.

He didn't want her.

Nobody _wanted_ her.

Choking back a sob, Sam rolled off the bed - pushing the plate of cookies aside as she did; Fiona's false sympathy was as choking as the ridicule she'd received that afternoon. Further ignoring the plate, Sam slid to the floor on the far side of the bed and reached beneath it. In that moment, she missed her father more than she had in years. She'd have given anything to be able to burrow into his embrace, to cry on his shoulder or to simply _talk_ to him about what she was going through.

She could _almost_ hear his voice, but that almost wasn't enough when the word she wanted to hear wouldn't form over the echo of Shelby's contempt. His _only_ saving grace was that he hadn't laughed. But then, why would he have when Shelby was making almost as much fun of him as she had been of Sam?

With a shake of her head, to clear it, Sam reached under her bed and pulled out the case that held the most poignant memories of her childhood.

The baseball mitt on the top was worn - it had belonged to her father - and just knowing that it was there was reassuring. Her fingers trailed over it as she plucked it from the top of the pile, taking comfort from the familiar texture. Putting it aside she plucked the last picture of her father and her from the center of the case and managed a faint smile.

What she wouldn't give for any word of advice right about now.

Gently placing the picture aside, she lifted the book of fairy tales from its resting place. Staring at it, her father's voice came back to her, talking of the happily everafters for each of the heroines as they scaled insurmountable odds to win their princes. Tears threatened again as her throat tightened and she threw the book away, not caring for the sentimental value, but more for the broken dreams it represented.

It embodied everything she and her father had ever dreamed for her, everything she'd ever wanted - her happily ever after... a dream that was now nothing but shattered pieces.

She wouldn't be going to Princeton to meet her prince; the prince she'd thought she'd met had turned out to be a toad and her painfully singular existence had been revealed to the world. Not only revealed, but she'd been stripped of all anonymity, exposed and ridiculed; shamed in front of the school for daring to dream a dream - for daring to think she might have found her prince.

Ignoring the book where it had fallen, Sam pulled her own mitt from the box next, tracing the lacing; it no longer fit, but her father had bought it for her and it embodied many of the happy memories she had of him. The raggedy doll beside it embodied the mother she'd never known; a present her father had told her was something her real mother had wanted her to have. Placing the items back in the box - but leaving the fairy tale collection book where it lay, Sam shoved the box back under the bed and pulled her knees to her chest.

Her gaze alighted on her computer and the _need_ to speak with Nomad arose unbidden. He would understand what she was going through; he would lend a friendly ear and - and shatter her heart by ridiculing her further. Swallowing, the image lost as tears flooded her gaze again and rendered her unable to see anything with any degree of clarity.

It wasn't the ridicule that hurt, she realized. It wasn't that people called her Diner Girl, or that they couldn't accept or see her for what she was; it wasn't even the fact that she was an outcast. None of that mattered; none of it had any bearing on what she was feeling.

What hurt was that Austin had remained silent. He hadn't defended her, hadn't made any more to accept the information beyond look at her. His surprise had been evident, his expression shocked, but his _opinion_ on her identity couldn't have been made more plain than when he'd turned away. In that one movement he'd rejected her; rejected everything they'd shared and left her to the mercy of the crowd.

Bowing her head, Sam buried her face in her knees.

In that one move, Austin had stolen everything. He'd taken her dreams, her expectation and her innocent belief in the goodness of people. Whatever had been left for her to believe in, to hope for, had disappeared with that silent betrayal of everything they'd shared.

Fiona and the girls left her to her own devices for the rest of the night, an unexpected reprieve, and one Sam found she didn't want. It left her too much time to think, too much time to feel; to acknowledge the heartbreak of the moment when Austin had turned away from her. And for the first time in a long time Sam neither slept, nor studied; she simply sat on her bed and stared out the window with silent tears rolling down her face as she hugged a pillow to her chest.

Morning came too soon.

----------

_**November 6**_

Gabriella and Brianna didn't give Sam the opportunity to even speak the moment her feet touched the main floor's wooden surface.

"Did you finish that English assignment for me?"

"Where's our breakfast?"

Sam wordlessly handed over the English assignment she'd finished the day before to Brianna, thankful that she hadn't had to do it the previous night - she never would have remembered anyway - and silently headed for the kitchen. Brianna disappeared to put the report in her bag, but Gabriella followed Sam to the kitchen.

"You really should have known better, Sam," she told her with a falsely sympathetic shake of her head. "Austin's way out of your league."

Clenching her jaw, Sam opened the fridge and pulled out the fixings for pancakes. The family was always up early enough - and today was no exception - for her to do something that was more than cereal and toast. Usually, though, she didn't have to listen to Gabriella's lectures, just her complaints. Today, with the lecture dripping with self satisfaction, it was all Sam could to do concentrate on her task and not her step sister's continued diatribe.

"I mean, honestly, you and _Austin_? Seriously, I would have thought you were smarter than that. Since when have you ever known a jock to date a geek? You didn't _honestly_ think he was seriously interested in you, did you?" Gabriella smirked, dipping her finger into the batter that Sam was now stirring and then licking it clean. "You had to realize that Austin would never have a serious interest in a nobody like you."

The handle of the wooden spoon snapped as Sam's hand clenched, her throat tightening as Gabriella's words echoed her own thoughts. Swallowing, but unable to keep the sheen of tears from her eyes, Sam pulled the bowl out of reach and turned her back on her step sister. The broken spoon went into the garbage and the batter went into the pan on the stove.

Gabriella was surprisingly silent as Sam continued to cook, leaving her to her own thoughts... and all Sam wanted was for someone - _anyone_ - to break the silence and into her train of thought; a train of thought that had picked up where Gabriella had left off.

_Stupid. Foolish. Idiotic. Sucker. Naive. Dreamer. _

Dishing up the pancakes without really seeing them, Sam placed them on a plate and then ran, scooping her school bag from the floor without missing a step as she tore out the front door. Anything was better than sitting around with false sympathy; anything was better than listening to her step-sisters gloat about her downfall.

All she wanted was to disappear back into the fabric of the fringe elements and be left alone; all she hoped for was a normal day where people would forget the fact that she existed and ignore her. School had always brought the anonymity she now craved and it was there she now fled.

But school, she was soon to discover, would prove to be no reprieve.


	17. Reality Bites

**Author's Note:** Thank you all for your kind words with regards to this story; as you know we're nearing the end of the movie sections… I've a few more ideas to bring to the table with regards to scenes that should be included, but this is slowly coming to a close.

Please, just for the record, don't beg for updates; they'll come when they do as this isn't the only story (obviously) that I'm working on. They might be slow in coming, but every piece has a lot of work put into it and they're not easy to churn out quickly. Be patient; updates will happen :)

**---------**

**Reality Bites**

_**November 6**_

Andy was waiting for his son when he arrived in the kitchen for breakfast, a cup of coffee between his hands.

"Good morning."

"Morning, Dad," Austin's greeting was short, and he _almost_ forwent breakfast in an effort to avoid the talk he knew would be forthcoming. But years of ingrained behaviors were hard to circumvent and he instead poured himself a bowl of cereal and settled at the table. Dreading the upcoming conversation didn't prevent him from stirring in a spoon full of sugar as he added his milk.

Andy didn't keep his son waiting long.

"Son, I think we should talk about this Shelby situation."

The spoon Austin had been lifting to his lips shook. Shelby. He'd like nothing better than to throttle her. Spiteful bitch that she was, she probably believed she'd done him a favor. Inhaling through his nose, he took a bite and refilled the utensil, chewing to expend some of his anger before answering. "About what?"

"This whole ending of your relationship with her. Don't you think it was rather hasty?"

Swallowing so he wouldn't choke, Austin stared at his dad, and opted for a touch of honesty. If nothing else, he could be partially honest about this and reveal something of what he was feeling. "It was time, dad. We don't have anything in common anymore."

"You don't spend any more time with her anymore," Andy pointed out as he took a sip of his coffee. "Ever think that maybe that's the problem?"

"No." Austin took another bite, considering any further response as he chewed. He couldn't reveal that Princeton- that _Sam_ was the reason he'd drifted from Shelby in the first place. His throat tightened on the thought and he fought back the wave of hurt that accompanied it. _Why hadn't she told him?_ "Shelby will never be anything more than a head cheerleader with a pretty face and nice body. She's spiteful and vindictive - as you saw yesterday - and _not_ someone I want to be associated with anymore."

"She's the head cheerleader and you're the star quarterback; it's _expected_."

"Well maybe I don't want to do what's _expected_ of me, dad." Pushing his bowl away, his appetite gone, Austin slid back from the table and leaned down to pick up his bag. "I'll play things your way for the semi-final, but I won't... I _can't_ live up to your expectations when it comes to Shelby."

"Don't count her out just yet, son," was the surprising reply. "She might have a surprise or two up her sleeve."

_There is nothing she could say or do that will _ever_ give me cause to forgive her for yesterday._ But he didn't voice the sentiment as he strode from the room; he didn't trust himself to stop there.

_---------_

School was hell that morning.

Austin was silent, an echo of his previous treatment to his friends in the lock room and they mostly put it down to his disappointment over discovering that Diner Girl had been his Princess. He hadn't dissuaded them of the notion, despite the fact that he felt every jibe and slur against Sam like a kick in the ribs. The unconscious clenching of his jaw would no doubt have a painful price to pay later, but it was no less than he deserved.

He was a coward and in letting Sam take the brunt of the school's disapproval and he only reinforced that fact to himself every time someone said something and he didn't - couldn't - reply. Caught in a web of lies of his own making, Austin felt powerless to change things. Nothing he said or did could take away the pain he'd caused her the previous afternoon, and by the same token, nothing he said or did would have any impact on the current thread of discussion flying through the hallways.

The whispers were the worst; he could hear them as he walked and did his best to ignore them. Mostly they died upon his entrance to a room, the team heralding his decision to drop 'Diner Girl' as a smart one - all the while he cringed within. He could feel the cage of his lies bearing down on him, weighing him down in a fashion nothing else ever had. Inside he was screaming, clawing at the bars - but nobody would hear him because he'd pushed the one person willing to listen away. Locked her out by his silence when the inner him had been screaming at him for being a fool.

Shock was still a large part of his being as he walked the hallways. That _Sam_ was his chat buddy still floored him - yet after speaking with her two days before at the Diner, he shouldn't have been surprised. She was everything he wanted, everything he _needed_ and there was little he could do about it without subjecting them both to more gossip. Overlaying that shock was hurt. Betrayal was as much as part of the whole scenario as incredulity; she should have trusted him and she hadn't.

It hurt and every time they passed in the hallways, every time he glimpsed that damnable her blue cap, it was like reliving the horrible pep rally all over again. It was seeing her face, watching her shut him out as he did nothing - watching as Sam, the only person who really knew him, believe the worst.

Judged by his actions.

Damned by his inactions.

Convicted by his silence.

Yet, even with his own pain, came the realization of hers. He felt every barb against her as if it were against him; every derogatory comment, every jab or dig was like someone taking a knife to his gut. It was like having an open wound in his chest that refused to heal - one that people couldn't see for the blood at his feet.

Shelby's brief comment in the hallway just before lunch when he'd caught Sam walking towards him - tears glazing her beautiful blue eyes as she bravely faced the ridicule of the school - had brought everything home. The worst thing about the whole ordeal was that a part of him, the part he'd been cultivating for the public for so long, agreed with her. That realization had been a shock as well as an unwelcome revelation.

He'd started to become what everyone else and his dad wanted him to be. He'd begun to believe that a person's social standing was what dictated their worth with regards to how much time he spent with or on them. It appalled and terrified him and he had no one to blame but himself.

If he'd been brave the way Sam had been, the way she continued to be, none of it would have mattered - but he was a coward. A coward who was unable and unwilling to risk disappointing his father; a coward unable to go after what _he _wanted rather than the dream he was told he was _supposed_ to want.

Instead of telling Shelby off as she'd unwillingly tilted his world on its side once more, he'd been able to do little more than just stare at Sam with the dawning realization... and feel about three inches tall.

He wanted to go to her, to tell her he was sorry; to say she really did know him - to ask her to wait until they got to Princeton to pass judgment, but even as he considered it, he knew it was too late. Going to her now, in such a public setting, would only open them to more ridicule - in particular Sam. No one would believe he'd approached her out of more than just pity. No one would consider, even for a moment, that any apology he could make would be sincere.

Instead of going to her, he'd turned away, an ache in the center of his chest as he thought ahead to that evening. Another evening without talking to PrincetonGirl818 - another evening without Sam. It was enough to make his jaw tighten and his eyes burn; desolation at the thought was swift to follow and it wasn't hard to figure out why.

He _missed_ her.

He missed talking to her, knowing that she was an intelligent and informed listener at the other end of the keyboard; someone who wouldn't judge him on other people's standards instead of his own. He missed being able to say outlandish things to make her laugh, or quote obscure poetry that she seemed to always know. He missed the way she always seemed to consider her responses, but at the same time was ready with a witty comeback. He missed being able to shock her, and himself, with the revelations as to his dreams.

He just plain missed _her_.

Maybe he was wrong to want her; maybe it was wrong to want something that had felt so right; maybe it was wrong to want to be happy for himself rather than everyone around him. Whatever it was, whatever this awful, gut twisting thing that ate away at his resolve and composure was, it was more than just guilt. His actions and reactions towards Sam were more than just negative; they were downright unforgiveable and by being such, he'd moved well beyond guilt.

All through lunch he was silently contemplating his options and ignoring his friends. If they thought it was weird, they - mercifully - let him be.

Stuffing his things into his locker, he slammed it shut as he considered the day stretching out ahead of him. His friends expected him at practice; afterwards they'd convinced him to hang out with the whole group – which unfortunately included Shelby. Not that he'd taken much convincing; the last place Austin wanted to be was at home where his father could pile more guilt and recriminations on him; where he _wouldn't_ be talking to Sam until the wee hours of the morning.

His day looked bleak, his night bleaker, and it was then – as he was gathering his gear for the afternoon classes – that he decided he had to try and explain. Sam _deserved_ an explanation for the way he was treating her; for the way he'd reacted at the pep rally. She deserved to know the truth as to his continued silence. The question now was would she read it.

Later, as he sat before his desk, staring at the screen with the blinking cursor, the question went from would she have the courage to read it, to if _he_ would have the courage to write it… and in the end he couldn't do it. No matter how much he owed it to Sam, the damage was done and there was nothing he could do to repair it without destroying his dad's dreams or the illusions he held about his son. It wasn't something that Austin felt he was quite ready to do and so, in the end, he chickened out and slowly deleted he same from the e-mail.

What Sam didn't know would never hurt him and it was better, he rationalized, for the clean break. It didn't help that, as he shut down his computer, his eyes burned with unshed tears and his chest ached as if he'd twisted the knife Shelby had so casually planted there during the pep rally. It felt as if he were saying goodbye… and he didn't want to.


	18. Clean Break

**Clean Break**

_**November 7**_

Samantha stared at the bright lights of the school stadium where the football team would be charging out in about fifteen minutes to the applause and cheers of the collective student body and their parents. Her hands clenched about the steering wheel, she stared at the entrance through which the players had gone to get into the school.

Sitting in her car, she'd been witness to their entrance; the jostling, laughing and teasing - and Austin's participation. The high of telling off her Stepmother combined with Rhonda's support, had spurred her to this and seeing Austin's seemingly easy acceptance of the way things were hurt... except she now saw beyond the facade he showed the world and she knew it for what it was. Austin was _acting _the part, as always, because it was what was expected of him.

There was no doubt that his silence hurt her - his rejection of her at the pep rally had been a major blow to her confidence - but he was hurting himself too and she couldn't let it go. By playing tonight, and possibly winning, Austin didn't seem to understand that he wasn't just throwing away his dreams, but denying his true self because of fear. He didn't understand; couldn't. Not when his father didn't encourage him to chase his dreams.

_Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game._

So here she sat, watching the lights of the pre-game show in the stadium to the side, while rehearsing in her head exactly what she was going to say, how she would approach him and when. She knew that without speaking with him, or to him, one last time, she'd never be able to put this chapter of her life behind her and move on.

But this wasn't just for her; maybe, just maybe, if she said what she had to say in a way that could break through to the guy within him, Austin would find the strength to be that guy. She hoped, for his sake, otherwise he'd be miserable and the part of him she'd come to know so well would be smothered under lies and other people's expectations.

She had to try.

Taking a deep breath, Sam reached for the handle and pushed the door open - and stopped. Poised to exit her car, she realized if she put her feet on the ground there was no turning back. The first steps were the hardest, but Sam pushed herself to her feet and closed her door resolutely before striding towards the school.

All too soon she found herself inside and standing outside the boy's locker room, the fighting frog emblem seeming to mock her and her resolution; dare she enter the forbidden zone? Was there really any other way to reach Austin before the game, to try and make him understand what he was doing to himself - and to her? Looking around, she searched for another way... and found nothing.

Without getting on the tarmac or field, there was no other way for her to reach him; and no matter her self confidence levels, she wasn't willing to risk a confrontation in the center of the team's warm up. Staring at the locker room door, Sam realized that this was her only chance and if she didn't seize it immediately, it would pass her by - the team needed to be on the field shortly.

Whatever this confrontation was going to bring, she was determined to face it with her shoulders back and her head held high. Squaring said shoulders and taking a deep breath, she grasped the handle leading into the change room and boldly stepped inside.

----------

"Because waiting for you, is like waiting for rain in this drought; useless and disappointing."

There was pain in Austin's eyes as she dropped the last of her devastating verbal punches and it seared straight through to the pieces of her bruised heart. But setting him free, by giving up on him, she was painting him with the same brush everyone else had and ignoring what she knew was true at his core. But she couldn't wait for a maybe; she refused to. Searching his gaze, Sam took one last look at the boy who'd given her so much hope, not quite able to tear herself away - and in that moment she said goodbye.

Turning on the ball of her foot, she strode for the door of the boy's locker room.

There was silence all about her, so thick with shock she felt as if she were walking through a fog of it. The players gave way, letting her go without even trying to stop her, and she wasn't so far gone in her own hurt she didn't miss the sudden respect she was afforded. Where before they'd have made jokes, cracked about her job - or former job - or harassed her, now there was an almost reverent awe. No one, especially a _nobody _like her, stood up to Austin Ames and got away with it - until now.

Austin's cry sounded behind her; a plea for her to stop or perhaps for understanding... or time.

_"Sam!"_

Shaking her head, she refused to turn back. There was nothing more to say; she'd said everything - and more - than what she'd intended. Austin had made his decisions and while they were choices she understood, they weren't ones she could support. Without looking back and without another word, she pushed through the door of the locker room back out into the hallway.

Everything that had happened over the course of the day hit her then and sent her senses spinning. Telling off Fiona and escaping from under her stepmother's thumb; moving in with Rhonda; confronting Austin - all of it was like a dream, something she couldn't believe as having happened and one that she was certain would end at any moment.

Exhaling deliberately, she attempted to ease the tension in her shoulders and forced herself to ignore the pain of this particular break.

Fiona had been a necessity for life; the woman had been smothering her ever since her father had died and if she hadn't escaped, Sam knew she would have eventually become like Austin. Living a lie; being someone she wasn't because of someone else. And while she'd done it initially because she needed the money for college, she realized now that her stepmother had used the excuse as a reason to demean her just as Austin's father had used fear and his forceful expectations to keep Austin in line.

Except Sam had escaped and Austin was still trapped - and she couldn't wait for him.

Wouldn't.

Until he found his own path to freedom and self belief, she could help him no more; it had to be his choice. Free and clear, her conscience no longer burdened by guilt or fear, Sam could walk away knowing she'd done everything to give him the same chance she'd had.

Without a backwards glance, she headed down the hall towards the familiar looking figure approaching her - and a smile crossed her features. Friends like Carter couldn't be bought.


	19. Backbone

**Backbone**

_**November 7**_

A jostle from above finally drove them to separate as the bleachers began to empty of the excited Fighting Frog fans. Austin finally pulled away, staring down into Sam's eyes, turning slightly to shield her from anyone who might think to push against her back. His padding took the brunt of a side swipe but braced as he was, with Sam _finally_ in his arms, he was unwilling to relinquish his position. Rain continued to pelt down from above as people flowed past them and Sam laughed softly as she took in his appearance, her cheeks pink.

"What?"

"You're soaked."

"So're you." Bending in, he stole another quick kiss - which lingered for a long moment before he pulled back again. "I don't care; it could be _snowing _and I wouldn't let you go."

"Mmm," an impish smile crossed her lips. "I wouldn't want you to."

"But you do now?" Her hold on him tightened, dispelling the doubt, and he reached up to tuck the strands of her dripping hair behind her ear again. "I love seeing you smile."

Whatever answer she would have given was interrupted by the necessity to move - they _were_ blocking a whole section from leaving the stands - and their surroundings finally caught up with them. Austin lurched as someone tried to move past them, and Sam nearly fell over from the unexpected shove. It was Austin's one-armed hold as he caught the rail to steady them, which kept them on their feet.

"Maybe we should go?"

He didn't reply, and instead blocked the pathway so she could step out in front of him with a half-smile and a nod. Clutching his hand - for even now he refused to let her go - Sam descended towards the ground while shooting him a grin over one shoulder; she didn't need to see where she was going to find her way.

Soaked to the bone, her hair plastered around her face and steam rising from body and cloth, the cold seeming to seep into her very core, but she was loving every minute of it because _he_ was with her. No matter how cold the rain felt as it cooled against her skin, it couldn't reach the core of what she was feeling in these moments. Life, she figured, didn't get _any_ better than this.

_"Austin!"_

Sam's whirled back at the indignant cry and nearly stumbled. She didn't move fast enough as she was suddenly torn from Austin's grip and fell with bruising force against the railing several steps down, her hands sliding painfully against the slick metal. Winded, her head reeling, she sucked in a painful breath and glanced at the ground which was still several long steps away.

"Sam!"

Turning her head, Sam tossed it to get her hair out of her face, and was confronted by the back of the drenched cheerleader's uniform that had pulled her aside - and whom Austin was trying to move around. The cheerleader's long hair was plastered down her back, her stance completely confrontational as she squared off against the team's captain.

Shelby.

"Austin! What were you think-"

"Sam, are you okay?"

"Sam? _SAM!?_" shrieked Shelby, glaring at him and grabbing the front of his jersey. It drew no more than an irritated glance from the former star quarterback. "What about Shelby - what about _me_?! How could you do this to me? The star quarterback and head cheerleader are like credit and shopping - we're _made _to be together! How can you embarrass me like this - and chasing after some two-bit nobody, it's awful!"

Straightening, Sam inhaled sharply, but she caught Austin's look and the sting of Shelby's hate filled words immediately faded. He didn't care what Shelby thought, his look said, and he never had. He'd just been too cowed before to do anything about it. Smiling, despite Shelby's continued tirade, Sam tuned it out. Ignoring the spiteful girl with a wink at the boy who'd just - so very publically - become her boyfriend, she rationalized that she could afford to be the bigger person.

After all, it wasn't every day someone left Shelby Cummings in the dust when it came to dating.

Austin cast another glare Shelby's way, shook his head, said something Sam couldn't hear, and then pushed past a stunned Shelby without further resistance. He rejoined Sam, heading for the ground, and flashed her a smile at her inquisitive look.

"What'd you say to her?"

"Nothing she understood."

"Oh?"

"She needs to read more Faust."

Austin had a wickedly subtle sense of humor, one that mirrored her own, and she could just well imagine what he'd said to Shelby. Unable to help herself, and not really wanting to, Sam threw back her head with a laugh - only to pull up short. Their last step off the bleachers was blocked by a broad shouldered, glowering man who looked none too pleased with the way Austin was holding onto her. A quick inventory of the similar traits from the man to the boy who held her hand had her heart sinking.

This then, she realized, was his dad.

She'd never met Andy Ames, but from everything Austin had said or hinted, something told her this was _not_ going to be an easy meeting. Sniffling suddenly, she shivered at the cold look and sneezed. Austin's reaction wasn't one she was expecting, and she found herself suddenly tucked close to his body under his arm. Her initial reaction was to pull away, but the tightening of his arm about her shoulders warned her he needed this contact and, instead, Sam slid her arm about his waist.

Andy's first words were barbed and as cold as the look he sent her way. "Diner Girl, is it?"

"Her name," Austin informed his father curtly, "is _Sam_."

"Sam." The contempt in Andy's tone was as unmistakable as that in his gaze. "Not much of a name."

"Short for Samantha," Sam interjected with a forced smile. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Wish I could say the same," Andy turned a level gaze on his only son, his dark eyes burning with disappointment. "I expected better of you, Austin."

Staring at his father in silent, tight lipped fury, Austin finally shook his head and turned Sam to the side. "Let's go Sam."

"Don't walk away when I'm talking to you!"

Austin glanced back. "Insulting my girlfriend is not talking to me."

"_Shelby_ is your girlfriend; has been for years!"

"And hasn't been for months," was the deft parry. "Deal with it dad; Shelby and I are through; we've been through since summer."

"You're throwing everything away, Austin," and despite the sharpness in the words, both Austin and Sam could hear Andy's confusion. "Your fast track at USC, the help Shelby can be when you get there, your football career-"

"_Your_ fast track and _your_ football career, dad - not mine. I don't want this;" waving one hand, Austin indicated the team and their celebrations, the cheerleaders and the field. "I never have. If you knew me at all, if you'd ever asked me, just once, what I really wanted and _wanted_ to hear the answer you'd know."

Sam sneezed again and Austin's arm tightened fractionally.

"You've never said anything about-"

"We can talk later," Austin cut him off before the rant could pick up steam, leaving the same shocked look Andy's been wearing upon his exit of the field. "I need to get Sam out of this; come on, Sam."

"If you think I'm going to just stand by and watch you throw away your football career at USC-"

"You don't have a choice."

"You'll do as I say - don't you turn your back on me, Austin!"

Ignoring his father, he headed for the doors leading back into the school and towards the boy's locker room. Spectators cut them off from his father and whatever threats or additional insults he hurled their way were lost in the sound. With the team celebrating out in the center of the field, everyone wanted to join in and it left them to their own devices.

After Sam's impromptu appearance in the locker room - and knowing this time she wasn't in for any male surprises, Austin pushed through the doors and dragged her with him. She made no protest, shivering in his grasp and sneezing. Pulling her un-protesting along with him, he drew her towards the showers and grabbed a few towels. She was quickly wrapped in terry cloth before he sat and drew her down in his lap. A part of him wished he had the guts to insist she take a warm shower, but the team could come back at any moment and he wasn't ready to risk that kind of exposure.

"Y-you should g-get out of t-those wet c-clothes."

Her stuttered words through chattering teeth gave him pause and his hands, which had been running up and down her upper arms, stopped. A quick look in her eyes showed none of the coy suggestion Shelby had liked to use, but concern for his well being - and it was at that moment he realized just how _innocent_ she really was. Sam's _only_ consideration was his health... and he found he wished it wasn't.

"I would," he assured her, smoothing back her dripping hair, "but I'm not the one with the chattering teeth."

"Y-you don't w-want to get s-sick."

"It's not me I'm worried about." Shifting her to the bench, Austin stood to reach his locker and quickly opened it. A practice jersey and his street clothes were on the hooks inside - not much else. A quick glance at how much smaller she was than him and he realized nothing in his locker would work. His sweater maybe, but she'd still be wearing soaked jeans. "I don't suppose you keep an extra change of clothes in your locker, do you?"

"I d-don't have one."

"Clothes or a locker."

"B-both."

"In your car, maybe?"

She shook her head, spraying water droplets and Austin reached for another towel. Sam let out an exclamation was he dropped it over her head and gently rubbed. "Aus-stin!"

"Relax; you're soaked."

Quieting, Sam submitted for a few moments before reaching up to grasp his wrists and dragging them away. The towel went with them, but he stared at her white fingers instead of her face; her grip was like ice.

"Sam?"

"I'm okay," she assured him, managing not to stutter. Releasing his wrists, she plucked the towel from his hands and turned her back to him. "Change; the sooner w-we get back to R-Rhonda's, the sooner I can change."

"Just a second." He left her on the bench, retreating into the shower room for a minute and collecting one of the clean wash cloths. Soaking it in hot water, he returned with the dripping fabric. Sam stopped rubbing her hair as he approached and the high flush in her pale skin wasn't reassuring. He never should have kept her out in the rain like that. Lifting the towel from her hands, he then wrapped them in the wash cloth.

Sam winced at the heat of the towel, but Austin folded his hands over hers and kept them still. "Just for a minute; I need to change and then we'll get out of here, okay?"

"I c-can wait outs-side."

His lips kicked into a half smile and he bent in to kiss her. "Just promise not to peak."

"Austin!" Color flooded her cheeks.

He brushed his lips over the tip of her nose and stood, taking his jersey with it as he went. Sam's eyes slammed shut as he pulled the jersey to eye level and he grinned; she'd already seen him without it but maybe she hadn't been looking when she'd come to confront him in the locker room before the game.

Sweet innocent Sam.

Changing as quickly as he could - wet football gear was _not_ the easiest thing to get out of - he left the wet clothes in a heap on the floor under the bench as he pulled on his jeans and t-shirt. His sweater he tossed to the bench beside Sam before pulling the last of his gear out. Ensuring nothing was left behind - he didn't intend to return for it - he dropped his bag on the sweater and straddled the bench.

Sam's head turned his way, but her eyes remained tightly shut. "Are y-you decent?"

"As ever."

Interpreting the tone of his tease correctly, she managed to look exasperated with her eyes closed. "Are you d-dressed?"

He gently pealed the cooling cloth from her hands. "I wouldn't be sitting next to you if I wasn't."

Her eyes slowly opened, encountering his jeans at first glance, and then flew wide - and she sneezed.

"Bless you."

"Thanks."

Tugging his sweater from under his bag, he offered it to her. "It's not your size, but it'll be a sight more comfortable than that wet shirt."

"Here?" she glanced towards the main entrance where the football team was likely to be coming through any minute.

Taking the hint, Austin got to his feet and slung his bag and sweater over his shoulder. Reaching down, he pulled her to her feet. "You can change outside."

"In the hallway? How i-is that b-bett... bett..." a violent sneeze racked her frame.

In response, Austin stopped, un-slung the sweater and dropped it directly over her head - wet shit underneath and all. Sam struggled for half a moment before his hands stilled her by settling on her shirt under the sweater. "Austin?"

"It'll get soaked if you don't get rid of that top."

Understanding flashed in her gaze and Sam quickly divested herself of the wet clothing underneath the sweater until the soft, well worn fabric pressed against her cool skin. Austin didn't comment as she wrung out the garments, heading for the locker room door. A ruckus behind them drove them onwards, heralding the arrival of the football team, and they exited just as the outer door could be heard slamming open.

Without pause, Austin drew Sam away towards the side door where he'd parked his car. Opening it, it was plain to see that the downpour wasn't going to abate any time soon. Glancing at Sam, shivering in his sweater, he pulled her close and briskly rubbed his hands up and down her back. Sam curled close, accepting the hug for the heat it brought and burrowed against him.

"I need to get the car; can you wait here?"

"I can go to it."

"You're already going to be sick, Sam," he told her bluntly, recognizing the signs. Various factors, not the least of which was exhaustion, likely contributed to the fact that she was already showing symptoms. "Let's not make it worse, okay? Watch my bag?"

Sam nodded.

_"Austin!"_

Ignoring the sharp call, he gave her arms a final rub, flashed a smile and sprinted off into the rain. His car was nearby, so within moments he had it on and the wipers going. Through the deluge he saw his father fast approaching Sam from behind. Kicking the engine into gear, he dash across the parking lot and slid to a stop near Sam. Leaning over to the passenger side, he popped the door and motioned her in.

The stern disapproval and anger in his father's face didn't faze him as Sam dove into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind her. Huddled in his front seat, she looked a little lost. A quick flip of the locks gave Austin the time needed to reach over and buckle her in. The grateful smile she sent his way worried him and, without waiting for his father to gain the last few steps, he shot them towards the exit of the lot.

"Let's get you home."

"Rhonda's," Sam corrected, curling her arms under her arm pits and hugging herself as she gave him her address. "I w-walked out on F-Fiona this afternoon."

"Really?"

She nodded, sneezing again. "R-Rhonda offered to l-let me l-live with her."

Glancing her way for a half second, Austin flashed her a smile. "You really do have the best of friends, don't you?"

"W-what good is a f-friend who won't s-stand b-by you when t-things get t-tough?"

The question, for all it had been asked with rhetorical conviction, startled him and Austin didn't have an answer for her. Reaching over, he tugged one of her hands free and enfolded it in his despite the icy feel; the _need_ to touch her was something of a novelty and one he hoped didn't wear off too soon. She slanted a glance his way before curling her free hand about his too, as if understanding that he didn't, couldn't answer her question even if she didn't expect one.

Austin, for all his popularity, didn't have friends like Sam did. Squeezing her fingers gently, he turned them down a side street leading to Rhonda's. If Sam kept putting forward gems like that one, it was going to be an interesting weekend.

Hell; it was going to be an interesting year!


	20. Really Bad Cold & Back to School

**Really Bad Cold / Back to School**

_**November 9**_

Rhonda had been less than pleased with Sam's bedraggled state when Austin had carried her over the threshold into Rhonda's little house. Seeing the state of both teenagers, Rhonda immediately hustled Sam upstairs and directed Austin to the basement bathroom with the instructions to strip and hop into a hot shower before he ended up in Sam's condition. His wet clothes, she told him in no uncertain terms, were to be left outside the door to be dried.

Austin hadn't left since.

Sam had only been marginally aware of her surroundings as Rhonda had run a warm bath and slipped her into it, warming the water every few minutes from a bucket in the sink to keep increasing Sam's core temperature. Shortly thereafter, Sam's eyes had fluttered open completely and Rhonda had given her a no-nonsense instruction to soak and let the heat seep in.

Half an hour later had found Sam curled into a pre-warmed towel fresh from the dryer with dry clothing - long, comfy pajamas she didn't recognize - waiting for her. Without a moment's hesitation, Sam slipped into them from the pre-warmed towel and huddle down into the soft fabric. Rhonda had knocked then and drawn her back to the living room where, to her surprise, Austin was sitting on the couch with a mug of steaming hot chocolate.

Ever practical Rhonda, with a rather large romantic streak, had tucked Sam neatly, and un-protesting, into his side before handing her a cup of tea. Then, to Sam's dismay, had settled herself across from the teens and proceeded to grill them like a pro.

Or rather, she grilled _Austin_ like a pro since Sam slipped into dream land with her head on his shoulders not long after the discussion started. Austin saved her tea - which almost splashed across his lap - before tucking a blanket around her shoulders and resuming his discussion with Rhonda. To his surprise, she cast no judgment on his behavior, simply saying that he'd come around in the end to make Sam one very, _very_ happy young woman.

With an admonishment to Austin to behave, Rhonda head to bed.

The next day was more of the same, except it was obvious that Sam's health had taken a beating. The impromptu rain shower combined with the emotional upheaval, stress and lack of sleep the last few days had conspired against her to give her one dozy of a head cold.

Austin, to both her and Rhonda's surprise, stick around to ensure Sam was comfortable. He'd fluffed her pillows, filled Rhonda's hot water bottle without complaint to keep by her feet, fetched her tea, made her soup and tucked her in whenever she drooped.

While Sam napped, Rhonda took the opportunity to get to know Austin better.

The weekend passed in a blur of time and before any of the trio knew it, Sunday evening had arrived - and Austin was expected in class the following morning. He didn't want to go, except Rhonda had informed him curtly that he would, or he wouldn't be welcome in her home and he'd caved without so much as a whimper of protest.

Sam, better but not fully recovered, teased him mercilessly. "For a guy who faced down linebackers who're twice his size, you're a real push over."

Austin simply smiled. "Only with the women who happen to be harboring my girlfriend while she's recovering from a bad cold."

His words warmed her the way nothing else could. His _girlfriend_. The dream of most of the female population at their High School - quarterback or not, Austin was still a hunk and one heck of a catch.

She let out a squeak as he lifted one corner of her blankets and slid in beside her. Her momentary protest was quickly squashed as Austin pulled her to his side and she relaxed against his chest. His fingers played with the strands of her hair as they enjoyed a brief moment alone.

"Austin?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you here because of me or because of your dad?"

He was quiet for a minute. "Both," he admitted. "A small part of me is to terrified to go home."

"And the other part?"

"What do you think?"

Shifting her head, she looked up at him. "I'm sick; I don't have to think."

Austin chuckled, "You really take your holidays where you get them don't you?"

"If I didn't, I never got any."

He shifted her hand to cover his heart, pressing it gently against the steady beat, all the while never breaking the eye contact. "I wouldn't be anywhere else, Sam. Even if I wasn't fighting with my dad, I'd be right here beside you. It's where I belong."

"You're not trying to play hero-boy, right?"

"Hero-boy?"

"Rescue the damsel in distress and all that."

"Maybe a little," he conceded with a wry smile. "Except that my damsel doesn't need rescuing; she rescued me."

"I did, didn't I?"

"Sure thing; I guess that makes you the Prince and me the Princess."

Sam laughed - and quickly broke down into a coughing fit. Wheezing as Austin rubbed her back, lying limply against his chest, she managed a retort. "You'd look good in a dress."

Laughing, Austin hugged her close and dropped a gentle kiss on the crown of her head. "I think one of us looks stunning in a dress - and it's not me."

She laugh-coughed some more, sneezing for good measure, and Austin was forced to vacate the couch to go in search of tea and cough medicine. By the time Sam's coughing fit had subsided, she was so drained her eyes kept closing and he settled himself nearby in case she needed anything. The fits were fewer, indicating she was getting better, but he knew she wouldn't be with him at school in the morning.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much more conversation after that and he had to be content to watch her sleep; as consolation prizes went, he'd had worse.

----------

_**November 10**_

Given no other choice, Austin headed for school the following morning.

Sam was still sick and while the temptation to hand over her phone at that moment was great, he resisted. If she had her phone now, he'd be tempted to text her all morning; as it was, he'd probably call Rhonda's half a dozen times before the end of the day. This was simply avoiding temptation.

Reluctantly leaving Sam sleeping peacefully on Rhonda's couch, he ducked out of the house and headed for his car. The trip to school passed uneventfully and he pulled in with several minutes to spare. With neither David nor Ryan mooching a ride this morning, the cab was quiet and he parked at a sedate and respectful speed.

Unfortunately, weeks of arriving at school early to text with Sam worked against him and left him at loose ends for the first twenty minutes. Inevitably, some of the guys on the team caught up with him at his locker as he was pulling out his books for his first class - and thinking he should have gotten Sam's locker number and combo so he could bring her home some homework. As he shut the door, he jumped at seeing David and Ryan on the other side, their expressions grim.

"Dude, what happened to you on Friday night - you have an aneurism or something?"

Taking a deep breath, Austin cracked a half smile and shook his head, pushing between them to head for his first class. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, man."

"You bailed, bro," David insisted, catching Austin by the shoulder. "You left us hanging."

"I dunno, I think Ryan did a good job; he did after all lead the team into the Championship."

"You _know_ what I mean." An edge appeared in David's tone. "I'm talking about ditching us at the most crucial moment in the game to chase after _Diner Girl_ -"

Austin turned the moment the slur left David's lips, grabbing his friend by the shift and turning to put him bodily into the locker. "_Sam_," he told David softly, his eyes flashing dangerously, "has got more guts and gumption than the whole football team. I'd _appreciate_ it if you'd stop calling her that."

Ryan eased in between them, breaking Austin's hold on David's shirt. "Will both of you _relax_? We're drawing a crowd."

"Let them watch," Austin told Ryan recklessly, his gaze never dropping from David's. "At least then they'd know I don't appreciate you maligning my girl."

David's eyes widened and it was the first hint that Austin had to indicate no one on his team had noted his lip lock with Sam on the bleachers. But then again, why would they when they'd been so focused on winning the game. Taking a step back from David and Ryan, Austin exhaled softly - and let his anger go.

Sam wouldn't have wanted him to be fighting with his friends over her.

"Nothing personal, man," he told them honestly, "but I really _hate_ that moniker."

Ryan and David exchanged looked at the ease with which words they'd never heard him use slid off his tongue. "Dude, what happened to you? First you ditch football and now you talk like an English major."

"Because I _am_ an English major," Austin returned dryly just as the warning bell rang. "I'll catch up with you guys at lunch if you guys really wanna know what happened Friday."

"You ditched us; we were there - remember?"

"It wasn't about you and the team, Dave. Trust me; it's bigger than that."

"That doesn't change the fact you left us hanging, _Austin_."

Ryan pulled David away and flashed Austin an apologetic smile - ever the peace maker. Shaking his head, Austin headed for his first class and put the confrontation aside. David and Ryan would hear him out at lunch hour - he knew they'd give him at least that much - but the thought wasn't as pleasurable as he'd expected it to be. Time spent explaining to them, meant less time to talk to Sam... and that was one addition he hoped he never lost.

After the scene at the game on Friday, and the ensuing weekend, it had given tempers a chance to cool... even as resentments had simmered. And while Austin knew the toughest of his confrontations were yet to come - he couldn't hide at Rhonda's and avoid his dad forever - the lunch hour already promised to be difficult. Friends he'd had since childhood were going to have to reevaluate what they knew about him and what he wanted. They'd already been forced to.

Ryan, he knew, would be psyched to be the starting quarterback taking the team to their next title but David... Dave was going to be a tougher sell. Based on David's response this morning, Austin wasn't so sure he would be able to convince his boy-hood friend of his change of heart or why. Still... after watching Carter and Rhonda support Sam through all of these difficult times, he had to count himself as lucky to be a part of her circle. If David couldn't deal, that was David's problem; not his.

All he could ask for was a fair hearing and let the chips fall where they would. If that meant it cost him a friend, then David wasn't really a friend at all and, in the end, didn't that mean gaining Sam hadn't really cost him anything of value?

A smile on his lips, he headed into his English class and sat himself to the side, feeling the burden of expectation - for once - lifting from his shoulders. Whatever the outcome of the lunch hour, he was confident he'd made the right decisions for him. No matter what his friends had to say, that wasn't going to change.

---------

"Carter!"

Carter stopped at the sound of a familiar voice calling his name and turned in surprise. "Austin?"

"How's it going?"

"Okay?" Looking at the former starting quarterback, Carter glanced towards the bus stop. With Sam sick, he didn't have another ride. "How's Sam?"

"Still sick, but she's getting better; she can be a bit of a grouch when she'd feeling down."

"No kidding." Carter kept one eye on the bus stop. "What can I do for you, Austin?"

"Do for me?"

"Yeah, I mean, don't you have your own friends to hang out with?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Austin smile sheepishly. "They're all at football practice."

"Ah."

"Ah, what?"

"That explains why you're talking to me." There was no malice in Carter's tone, just simple acceptance. "You've no one better to talk to."

"You don't really think I'm that shallow, do you?"

"Any reason I shouldn't?"

"I suppose I deserve that." Austin exhaled and jumped into his reason for tracking the Drama enthusiast down. "Look, all the cards on the table, Carter. You're Sam's best friend. You've been there for her through thick and thin, supported her through this whole nightmare with her... with Fiona, and I hear you're the reason she finally agreed to meet me at the dance. I figure not only do I owe you one, but if you're that important to Sam... so... I don't want us to be at odds."

Carter's attention turned from the bus stop to the popular teen standing before him, and stared at him for a long minute. "And if I don't want to get to know you?"

"I'll respect that, man, but I'd rather not have to ask Sam to choose between us for who she spends her free time with."

"No offence, Ames, but I'd _rather_ not be around while the two of you are being all couple-ish. Don't get me wrong - I'm glad you wizened up to what you had before it was too late - you make her happier than I've seen her in a long time."

Not in the least offended, Austin shrugged away the comment. "We don't have to be all couple like, Carter. One of the cool things about Sam is that she's... you know... she's..." Austin floundered for a moment before he finished - rather lamely in his own opinion. "Well she's _Sam_."

To his surprise, Carter grinned. "You have trouble defining it too, huh? Alright, I'll give it a shot. Maybe we can do a movie night at Rhonda's or something when Sam's up for it. I mean, there has to be some truth to what she's been saying about _Nomad_ since school started, right?"

"I'm just looking for a chance to prove it."

The sound of a bus' brakes brought Carter's head around and his eyes widened as he realized his bus had come. "I've gotta run-"

"Can I give you a lift?"

Surprise as much by the offer as anything else Austin had said to him, Carter turned back as the bus was pulling away. "Can we stop and see Sam first? I promised I bring her today's assignments."

Of course he did; despite the fact Carter was doing the very thing Austin had thought of too late, it stung. "Sure thing. This way."

"I don't need directions," Carter assured him, falling into step away from the bus stop. "You've cut us off enough; I'd know your wheels in my sleep!"


	21. Damage Control

**Damage Control**

_**November 12**_

"I can drive, you know."

"I know."

Sam rolled her eyes, adjusting the seatbelt again before settling back in her seat. "I'd _rather_ drive."

"I know - you're a bit of a control freak."

"Hey!"

Austin grinned as he shoulder checked and then pulled out into traffic. Wednesday had dawned without evidence of Sam's cough or sneezes; a day of uninterrupted sleep had done her wonders - which meant she was going back to school today. Delighted to have his girl back on campus, Austin had insisted they at least ride to school together and Sam had conceded since her car was still parked in the school lot where she'd left it after the big game.

Tuesday, Veteran's day, had been a holiday and one where Austin has spent almost all of his time with her - it had been fabulous.

"Face it Sam; you are. It's one of the things that makes me so crazy about you."

"Flatterer," she adjusted the bag at her feet. "Are we still picking up Carter?"

"That was the plan - unless there's been a change since we saw him yesterday."

"You're just sore I had Carter get my assignments and not you."

"I'm _sore_ because I didn't think of it until I was already at school," he admitted sheepishly. "Carter and you've obviously done this before."

"A time or two; usually I have to bring him his assignments, not the other way around."

There was a companionable silence as Austin maneuvered them smoothly through traffic. One of the nicest things about driving with Sam was that he didn't feel he had to prove something to her; the speed demon Ryan and David had encouraged him to be was more than content obeying the rules of the road since that was more in line with keeping Sam safe. It was a nice switch from the constant harassment he'd once gotten driving to school.

Pulling up in front of Carter's house, he put the transmission in park while undoing his seatbelt all in one motion - and reached towards her. Startled, Sam looked up just in time to be on the receiving end of a kiss that made her toes curl. Her hand crept up to around the back of his neck just as he was pulling back, and he pulled away despite the small sound of protest in the back of her throat.

"I couldn't kiss you good morning at Rhonda's."

"I could get used to that in the morning," her hand fell away as he settled back in his seat. "It's a nice change from Fiona screaming for her breakfast."

He laughed, glancing up to see that Carter hadn't yet appeared and hit the horn a couple of times. "After that kind of constant wake up call, I'm glad I can offer an alternative. Of course," his tone turned teasing, "if it makes you feel more at home, I could call and wake you up with a breakfast request."

Earning a solid punch on the shoulder - Sam was no push over - for his efforts, he was saved from having her answer by Carter opening up the back seat and turned his attention the other boy's way. "'Morning, Carter."

"Hey Austin; 'morning Sam."

"Hey," she returned with a grin, "bet you never thought to be riding to school with Austin Ames."

"Neither did you," Carter returned with a pointed look at the poet-jock as he fastened his seatbelt. "No offence."

"None taken," putting the car back into gear, Austin pulled away from the curb and finally commented on Carter's choice of wardrobe for the day. "No big audition today?"

"Nothing major," was the immediate return. "Not yet, anyway."

"I still say you'd have better luck going into an interview like that," Sam told her best friend as she resumed facing forward. "Being yourself isn't a bad thing."

"I never said it was; I just much prefer to be someone else - usually."

Austin was silent as Sam and Carter debated back and forth about the merits of being the person you really were with everyone around you and couldn't fault either of their logic; it was either a discussion they'd had an awful lot, or one that was a bone of contention. To his surprise, they agreed to disagree as he was pulling into the school parking lot, with Carter conceding that Sam had a point and he'd try to be more himself at his next interview - and Sam conceding that Carter had a point about being who you truly were with the people you cared about most.

As for Austin... he was on the fence, but leaning towards the idea that being yourself all the time was a good way to invite other people to hurt you. Despite the big leaps he'd already made towards reconciling the persona he was in private with his public persona, there were aspects of each he didn't want to lose - or share with anyone else. Except Sam.

To his surprise, David and Ryan seemed to materialize out of nowhere as he was climbing out of his car. For all David's expression was dark, Ryan's smile was easy. "Hey bro; you never called so we caught a ride with Shelby."

Shelby.

Austin glanced behind them to see his ex already striding towards the school doors. Her skirt was as short and her heels as high as school allowed, displaying her tanned limbs to perfection - and it left him cold. The sight, where once would have stirred his interest, now barely rated a second glance, and he caught Sam casting an inquiring look his way. _She_ however, _did_ rate a second glance and he let his admiration show; she blushed under that look. While looking at her, he collected his bag from his car before answering Ryan.

"Sorry about that; I haven't been on my phone lately. Guess I forgot."

"You're forgetting about us an awful lot, Austin."

"Sorry man, you know how it is with a new girl." That silenced David's acidic tongue for a minute and Austin closed his door and locked the car, seeing Carter and Sam already heading for the school. Despite the urge to follow, he turned to face his friends. "I'm not avoiding you on purpose."

"You're not exactly eager to be around us either," David's tone was accusatory. "You could have stuck around for practice."

"Not a chance," the harsh rejoinder was softened with a half-smile. "If I go anywhere near the pitch, Dad will take it as an invitation to jump on me about USC."

"He just doesn't want you to waste your talent," Ryan and David fell into step as Austin headed for the school. "I mean, didn't you enjoy football even a little."

"Not as much as you'd think," adjusting his bag over his shoulder, Austin kept one eye on where they were going and the other on the guys. "With enough pressure, the fun can be leeched out of anything."

"He was riding you that hard?"

"You need to ask? He's the only parent who's not a part of the coaching staff allowed on the sidelines _during_ the game."

"He just wanted to be sure you gave it your all," it was no surprise to hear David defending his dad. "I'd kill for a chance like you've got Austin - and you're just going to throw it all away for some girl."

Ryan grabbed the door. "We're not saying you should play, or that you shouldn't date Din... er... _Sam_, but this is your future, man. Are you _sure_ this is what you want? Once it gone, you can't get it back."

"Didn't either of you ever think there was more to me than just football?" The look Ryan and David exchanged as they entered the main doors indicated they hadn't. But then, why would they? It wasn't as if he'd ever said anything about wanting something else. "That's what I thought - and it's my fault you guys didn't know, but-"

A commotion up ahead cut Austin off and the trio looked up to find Sam and Carter standing in the middle of the hallway while Shelby's friends and Sam's step-sisters tried to bully them. A quick inspection of the situation gave them a good idea of what this was about; Sam had been waylaid on her way into school by people who wanted nothing more than to see her fail.

"Dude; aren't you going to jump in?"

Austin was in the process of doing just that, leaving his friends behind as he quick stepped to Sam's side. His appearance drew a high pitched, hopeful "Austin!" from her step-sisters and silence from Shelby's shadows. Deliberately, with a good number of the student body's senior class watching, he slid his arm around Sam's waist without saying a word and looked down at her.

She was livid - he could feel it - and the way her eyes blazed when she looked at him made him abstractly wonder if they'd blaze that way in other scenarios; the idle thought was enough of an incentive as he bent, his lips brushing against hers.

Sam jumped and he smiled, lifting his head as he ignored their audience. For all he cared they could have been on those bleachers again with _everyone_ watching; nothing mattered but her. He said he only thing that came to mind. "Good morning, Sam."

"Good morning, Austin."

The buzz of conversation floated around them and he lifted his finger tips to brushed against her jaw line as his backpack slid to dangle from his elbow; he didn't notice. "How's my girl this morning?"

His question seemed to remind her that they weren't alone and the half-smile that had started to blossom on her face suddenly turned apprehensive. Her gaze left his to dart around - and found that almost everyone had dispersed. Her gaze came back to his and she arched her eyebrows. "Neat trick."

He laughed softly, hugging her once before letting her go and shouldering his bag again. "A nice side effect. What happened?"

Sam exhaled, her anger draining away. "Gabriella and Brianna jumped me as I was talking to Carter, demanding to know who I thought I was, thinking I could snare _you_ - even if I _am _Cinderella."

"And Shelby's minions?"

"More of the same. They don't feel I should be humiliating the head cheerleader. Apparently I should be the better person and give you up to let _her_ save face."

"Give me up?"

Nodding, Sam's expression was serious. "Do you want to be given up, Austin?"

He caught the teasing sparkle in her eyes as she asked the question and grinned. "Not for now, no. I'd never have spent all that time with you this weekend if I did."

"That's what I said." Cocking her head at him, she regarded him thoughtfully. "Now that I think about it, it was almost as if you were a possession - like Shelby's puppy. Almost as if I could tell you to go back to her and you would."

"That's the old Austin; the one who-"

The warning bell cut him off and Sam caught his hand with an apologetic smile. "I've gotta run or I'll never get my books. See you at lunch?"

"By the friendship circle, right?"

She laughed, her eyes dancing. "Right - twelve sharp; don't be late!"

He waved as she disappeared down the hall, heading in the opposite direction at a quick clip to reach his locker too. A quick look showed that David and Ryan seemed to have dissolved into thin air while he was talking to Sam. Once he'd collected his books, he headed for his first class and slid into his seat just as the bell rang. A smile spread over his face as he pulled his books from his bag.

Lunchtime couldn't come soon enough.

Austin settled next to Sam with a smile on the bench of the Friendship circle where he'd spent many a morning texting her. "Early, aren't you?"

"Usually." She conceded with a tilt of her head, enjoying the late season sunshine. "Though I don't come outside for lunch much."

"I know; usually you'd spend it in the library with me - online."

"Across from you as I am now," her tone turned teasing even as she admitted to the fact she'd noticed his presence. "You're more fun to look at than a text screen."

"You too." Austin leaned against the backrest. "Was your morning as rough as mine?"

"Exam preps?"

He nodded.

"Probably worse - most of my classes are AP."

"Just most?" Austin's tease was good natured. "Careful, you'll have me thinking I can keep up with you."

"You're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for, Austin. You didn't have time for AP classes, that doesn't mean you couldn't do them."

"Maybe AP English," he conceded. "I get a little bored once I'm done what's assigned."

"Hey Austin!"

They both looked up as at Ryan's call to see him and David headed their way.

Sam suppressed a groan. "And I thought I was going to have you to myself for lunch."

"You can have me after school; they've got practice."

The double entendre made Sam blush as Ryan and David stopped short, looking from one to the other. David looked straight at Austin with a disapproving frown, but Ryan, to her surprise, offered her a smile. "We didn't see you guys in the cafeteria, so we figured you'd be somewhere out here. How's it going, Sam?"

She blinked. _Sam_. Not Diner Girl? "Uh... good, thanks. You?"

Ryan slid uninvited on the bench next to her, on the other side from Austin, leaving David standing. "Pretty good. It's tougher being the first string QB now that Austin's dropped out; but I'm loving every minute of it."

"And the girls that flock to you because of it, I bet."

Ryan looked taken aback by her wry comment and then burst out laughing. "I can't deny it; I love the attention."

"Dude, I thought you were supposed to have lunch _us_ today."

Ryan and Sam looked back at David's curt complaint and Austin frowned at his friend. "You guys can join us if you want."

"Without _her_."

Sam put her hand on Austin's arm as his expression tightened in displeasure for David's rudeness and forestalled whatever he was going to say. "I don't expect you to accept me, David," she told him honestly, drawing a surprised glance. She'd never addressed him directly before. "But wouldn't it be easier if we're at least civil - for Austin's sake?"

"I don't like you."

"You don't know me," Sam countered. "After being friends with Austin all these years, don't you think his judgment deserves a little respect?"

"Just 'cause he's the QB on the field, doesn't mean we'll follow his lead off it. I don't have to like you just because he does."

"I never said you did." Her fingers tightened on Austin's arm. "I only said we should be civil."

"Civil," David snorted, leveling a glare her way. "We shouldn't be having anything to do with you; you're a nobody, Diner Girl, a -"

"Hey!" Austin stepped in, standing to get into David's space and shutting him up before he could continue. His free hand - the arm Sam wasn't holding - closed on the front of his friend's shirt. "That's my girl you're maligning, man; watch it."

"Or what, you'll write me to death?"

"Austin."

He shook off Sam's hold, bending in close so he was nose to nose with David. "Do you really think I'd leave it at words?"

Ryan slipped between them, placing on palm on David's chest and one on Austin's as they matched glares, and pushed them apart. "Easy, guys, we're all friends here."

David sent one last look Austin's way before turning on his heel. "I used to think so. Come on, Ryan; the air out here reeks."

Sam caught Austin's arm, holding him back as he was about to go after David for the comment. "Let it go."

"What?"

"Let it go; he's not worth it."

"But-"

"But nothing" Shaking her head, she turned him back to the bench and forcefully pushed him down - and Sam was no slouch. "I'm a bit of a shock to everyone, Austin; a lot of people are going to have problems with this."

His expression turned from angry to concerned in a heartbeat as he reached for her hand. "That's not going to be a problem for us is it?"

A meaningful glance at their intertwining fingers kicked up the side of her mouth. "Not on my end. We just have to give them time to adjust. David will either accept it or he won't, but getting into arguments with him while he sorts through it can only make things worse."

"How'd you get so smart?"

Sam stared at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing. "I had the step-monster from hell; how else do you think?"

They shared a laugh and a smile before returning to their lunch. But as Sam ducked her head to unwrap her sandwich, Austin's smile faded and he glanced back towards where Ryan and David had disappeared. Somehow, despite Sam's reassurances, he wasn't as confident that David would come around.


	22. Unexpected

**Unexpected**

_**November 13**_

Sam and Austin quickly became a visible couple around the school.

Ever so slowly, as the day came to an end, Sam noticed that they were less and less stared at. Ryan continued to waylay them in the hallways to quickly, chat for a couple of minutes and David continued to treat her with hostility. Surprisingly, she found David's response reassuring.

He wasn't falling into line like so many other people at school were now that the Student Body President had given her the so-called 'stamp of approval'.

Shelby avoided her, the Shelby minions along with her, though Austin had voiced his displeasure at the fact that Shelby still waylaid him daily to plead her case. As if she had one.

At Sam's insistence, Austin went to football practice. Because, no matter what he'd done, he was still technically on the roster and they deserved his support. He'd voiced a token protest, but eventually gone and Sam suspected he needed a little 'boy time' after spending the last week almost exclusively with her.

Sam, on the other hand, went straight from school to the house Fiona and her daughters now lived in. She'd been back almost nightly since quitting the Diner and having her say - minus the days she'd been sick - packing up her things sporadically through the week and boxing them over to Rhonda's.

Thursdays were one of the days Fiona went in for her enhancement surgeries. It was also the day the twins stayed at school to watch the football team practice; Sam only hoped they continued the trend despite Austin now being so visibly - if only for a short time - hers.

It wasn't as if he was the _only_ good looking guy on the team.

The main house locks hadn't been changed and Sam used her key to get in. Bypassing the main floor, she headed straight for her attic bedroom, glad as ever that she'd taken to locking her door years ago and it had basically left it untouchable by her step-mother and step-sisters. Letting herself in, Sam took in the boxes she'd already piled by the door, the bed - now stripped with its covers packed away - and the desk set up she hadn't yet packed.

Her computer tower was already at Rhonda's just waiting for the last of it.

Several shelves of knickknacks still needed to be boxed, as did the books, pictures and furnishings - if Fiona didn't throw a fit and prevent her from taking them. In addition, there were the rugs, the posters and various school trinkets still to be removed. The rug, Sam knew, would go last, but the open box on the bare mattress held the first of the wall hangings and she decided to start there.

Setting her alarm for two hours - more than enough time to pack what she wanted and carry it down to her car - she set to work. Clearing her walls took a few minutes, there wasn't much left to take down, the box's contents slowly increasing until there was nothing left on her walls. The knickknacks went next, wrapped in fabric, until the box was full. Sealing the box, she placed it with the rest by the door before placing an empty one on the bed.

Several books from the shelf near her door, along with the wire rack that had held them, filled the next box before being piled with the others. Packing away the desk set up was next - it would be the first box down to her car tonight - though it only covered the base third of the box. Photos came next, along with her album and the framed photo of her father. Meaningful items, she decided - items that needed to come out right away. The box didn't take long to fill and she closed it, taking another look around as she room as she did; she was just about finished and there wasn't much else she wanted to bring... until her gaze settled on the book of fairy-tales.

Staring at it, she considered everything that had happened - everything that had _changed_ - since she'd thrown it aside last week. Amazing how a single week could change one's perspective. A half smile crossed her lips as she made her decision, crossing to the other side of the room and gently scooping the book up by the spine.

A folded, slightly battered, blue backed paper fell out, catching her eye as she made to turn away. Surprised, it had been her favorite book after all, she placed the Fairy-tale book on the closed box. Crouching, she scooped up the paper - to find it was a sheaf - and opened it up. Fancy, official looking bold script exploded before her eyes.

_Last Will & Testament_

It took a moment for the words to register and for Sam to realize what she was holding.

A Will.

Her _father's_ missing Will.

It had to be - Fiona, if she had a Will, would never have had a reason to hide it in her fairy-tale book. Sitting back on her heels, Sam exhaled and flipped the Will open, scanning the document with interest and then growing disbelief as she progressed to the second page.

Her father had... he'd... he'd left her... _everything_. The house, the diner, the car, the plot, the bank accounts - all of it was supposed to have passed to Sam. Not Fiona. The last page held the two signatures required to validate the Will; her father's neat cursive and Fiona's sprawling scrawl.

Disbelief filled her almost immediately as she stared at Fiona's signature, the abuses and mis-treatment she'd suffered over the years - from being kicked out of her own room to being Fiona's personal maid - careened about in her head, a mis-mash of images and remembered pain. All of it swirling about as she stared blankly at the paper in her hands, the inescapable fact in the evidence before her.

Fiona had lied.

Not once, in all the years she'd been living with her step-mother had Sam considered that Fiona might have cheated her out of her inheritance... yet she should have. Without this Will, everything had gone to Fiona to do with it as she pleased. Sam had believed herself powerless... and instead she _should_ have been the one making the decisions with her step-mother and step-sisters living on her good grace.

Folding the Will closed, she considered her next move. For starters she needed to speak with Rhonda and find an attorney; if her father had intended for her to be his heir, she had every intention for fighting for what was hers. The Will not only represented Fiona's lies, but financial security for Sam.

Financial security and the ability to fund her tuition without student loans.

Determined, Sam tucked the Will back into the pages of the Fairy-tale book before picking up the box on which it rested. She could probably have finished packing tonight, but if the house was indeed hers, she didn't see a reason she _had_ to move. Still, for however long it took for her to find and see a lawyer, she wanted this box with her. Careful to lock her door behind her, Sam headed downstairs.

There was no sign of Fiona, Brianna and Gabriella as Sam locked the door to the house before heading for her car. The box went onto the passenger seat; the book containing the Will was slid down between the seat and the box. Now that she'd found it, she wasn't about to lose it. As a precaution, she buckled in the box to keep it tight.

A grin stole across her lips as she started her car. Fiona wasn't going to know what hit her... and Rhonda wasn't going to believe this!

* * *

"It's the genuine article."

Rhonda had taken one look at the Will and called her own personal attorney. He'd slotted them into his schedule immediately, and they'd taken the Will to his office. A look through it had him shunting them off to the head of _his _company, who in turn had brought their case directly to the attention of the state of California.

Which is where Sam now found herself, along with Rhonda, sitting across from the man who now held her father's will. "You mean, Fiona didn't inherit it all."

"According to this, young lady, Fiona was supposed to keep it in trust until your sixteenth birthday."

"Sixteen? Not Eighteen?"

"Some parents feel their offspring are more responsible than others." The attorney shrugged. "You said you've been working at this Diner for how long?"

"Since I was twelve; Fiona insisted I needed to know the family business."

"And you've been the primary caretaker of both the business and the home?"

Sam and Rhonda exchanged looks. Rhonda fielded the question. "I've been overseeing the business, sir, but mostly to watch over Sam. Fiona hasn't been the most understanding guardian."

"Then the answer is yes."

Sam and Rhonda exchanged another look before Sam nodded. "Yeah; I'd say I've been the primary caretaker."

The attorney made a contemplative sound and then continued to read through the rest of the Will while Rhonda and Sam waited patiently. Finally, he flipped it closed and placed it on the desk, resting his hands upon it as he folded them together. Pinning Sam with a look, he regarded her silently for a long moment, as if organizing his thoughts, before speaking.

"Now, you said your step mother never mentioned the existence of a Will."

"That's right. I remember her bemoaning the fact she was stuck with me as part of the bargain. She used to claim that if my father had left a Will, there was no way he'd have left me to her."

"More like there's no way he'd have left everything to _her_," Rhonda interjected scornfully.

The attorney held up one hand to forestall whatever else Rhonda might have added. Sam was the one to voice the next questions.

"So what do we do?"

"For starters, we fast track this through the court and freeze all of the assets that should have been yours. Taxes, bank accounts - everything." Leaning back in his chair, the attorney tapped one finger on his desk. "I presume you _do_ intend to fight for what is rightfully yours, Miss Montgomery?"

"Fight and more," she told him firmly. "Just tell me what I have to do and where I have to sign; Fiona's _not_ getting any more of a free ride than she's already had."

The attorney took one look at the fierceness of her expression and smiled. "You and I, young lady, will get along just fine." Reaching out, he pressed an intercom button on his phone. "Marie, cancel the rest of my appointments this evening and get in touch with Judge Matthews; I've a case he's going to want to see immediately."

_"Right away, sir."_

The line clicked off.

"Now Miss Montgomery - or do you prefer I call you Samantha?"

"Sam is fine."

His lips twitched. "Sam; I'll need to you to put together a written statement for the Judge with regards to your treatment over the years, your responsibilities and include specific details where you can of instances where Missus Fiona Montgomery has denied you basic care or privileges."

"Like insisting I work instead of attending a school dance because _she _needed it?"

"That would be one example, yes."

Rhonda and Sam exchanged looks before Sam regarded the attorney with a faint smile, her question holding more than a little amusement. "Is this paper supposed to cover all of the time she's been my step-mother or just this last year, because I could write a whole series of novels on what she hasn't done for - or plain out denied - me."

"A novel won't be necessary; simply outlining the worst of these offenses should suffice. The Judge will want to speak with you sooner rather than later; can you have it ready by this evening?"

Sam blinked. "Tonight?" Glancing at Rhonda she hedged. "Isn't that a little soon? I'm right in the middle of finals and I have to study-"

"Sam." Rhonda cut her off. "We'll both have something for you before your office closes. May we borrow a work station?"

The attorney pressed a button on his intercom again. "Marie; Miss Montgomery and her friend are in need of some office space; is the boardroom empty?"

_"Yes, sir."_

"Thank you, Marie." he clicked it off, addressing Sam and Rhonda again. "Take the last door on your left, you won't be disturbed."

Sam reached out to take the Will, but the attorney held up one hand. "Do you mind if I hang onto this? I'd like to take a copy and fax it over to the Judge. She will want to be prepared for such a clear cut case as this."

"I suppose it's better if you hang onto it." Agreed a reluctant Sam. Straightening her shoulders, she pushed to her feet. "Is there a computer in the conference room or stationary we can use? I didn't realize you'd be wanting anything else and I didn't bring anything."

"Everything you need will be provided, Miss Montgomery. The desktop on the sideboard isn't password protected and you should be able to compile your list of grievances there."

"Thank you," Sam reached across the desk, extending her hand. "I mean it; I wouldn't know what to do with this otherwise."

"No, Miss Montgomery, thank _you_. This particular case will be a pleasure." He smiled, shaking her hand. "I'll come find you when I've finished my preparations."

Sam nodded, letting Rhonda lead her to the boardroom. In a blur, she compiled factual occurrences, including those whose dates and times she could remember over the last dozen or so years Fiona had been her guardian. In addition to them, she added a victim impact statement - how the treatment had affected her life and choices - without being asked.

* * *

Judge Matthews heard her case behind closed doors later that night, promising to review all of the facts before making her decision - though she did indicate it was a fairly cut and dried case of neglect and abuse. Once her decision was made, no matter what time of the day or day of the week, she'd ensure Sam was informed.

And then the whirlwind that was the next three days overtook her completely and passed in a blur. Sam and Rhonda had a team meeting, Sam going so far as to bow out of having Carter or Austin around, pleading the need for some girl time. The boys had backed off, albeit reluctantly, and Sam spent the weekend formulating a plan of attack. With the Diner, the house and the family assets coming to her, they drafted a list of all the expenses they knew Fiona had incurred and then some.

Once the list had been finalized, Sam put numbers to them - having been the one in charge of the family finances, she knew roughly how much everything had cost. Those numbers were then translated into equity and they came up with a list of things that would need to be sold for Sam to be able to pay her college tuition.

As soon as they had the go ahead from the Judge, Sam intended to implement the changes immediately. Fiona, she swore, wouldn't get another penny.


End file.
